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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25575430">For Keeps</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClasseySpanks/pseuds/ClasseySpanks'>ClasseySpanks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and messiness ensue. This is not a guide and shouldn't be taken as such., Circle Mages, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Mage Abuse and Opression (Dragon Age), Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Mage-Templar War (Dragon Age), Mentions of Past Assault, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, slight deviations from canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:07:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25575430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClasseySpanks/pseuds/ClasseySpanks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the Ostwick Circle was cruel and oppressive and Evelyn Trevelyn swears she will never be under a Templar's control again.</p><p>But a late-night encounter with the Commander of her army, an ex-Templar, leaves the Inquisitor with complicated feelings over the new tenor of their relationship.</p><p>All she knows for certain is that she doesn't want it to stop.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>382</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i></i></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i>Though I enjoyed the story as told in the game, I feel that Cullen's life experiences and dark past would lend to a more complex personality that does not involve quite so much blushing or stammering. I also think a mage from the Circle could not help but distrust a man who was once part of the Order that oppressed her people. This is the story of two adults with traumatic pasts finding what they need in each other; however, since this is Thedas they don't really have the language or established healthy parameters that a relationship with even mild Dom/sub/power exchange elements requires. As such, angst and messiness ensue. This is not a guide to a relationship like this and shouldn't be taken as such. It is just a story I wanted to tell and it has helped me break through my months-long writer's block. </i><br/></p>
</div>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"The Circles are gone! I did not fight to escape that place just to be thrown into another cage!" she shouts and her limbs tremble as the magic pools within them ready to be called.</p><p>"It would be symbolic only. Right now we are in a delicate position," placates Leliana. "Andraste, in her wisdom, chose you, a mage, as her champion. I accept this. Everyone in this room-" She gestures to the ambassador, the seeker, and the commander. "-accepts that. But convincing Thedas at large will take time and skillful maneuvering."</p><p>"The Chantry will be more... amenable... if we keep the appearance of tradition," supplements Josephine in her smooth dialect.</p><p>Evelyn folded her arms tightly over her chest, throwing a disdainful glance at the Commander.</p><p>
  <em>A templar from his short hair to his well-maintained armor and polished boots... How many mages did you crush beneath your heel? How many girls did you threaten with Tranquility in order to get what you want?</em>
</p><p>"So he is to be my keeper?" she spats, looking away from him.</p><p>"For the time being, Herald, and for appearances only. Our Seeker's presence will have to suffice while in the Hinterlands."</p><p>To his credit, Commander Rutherford looks equally displeased by the development. "I am not a Templar any longer, Leliana. Are you certain this is necessary?"</p><p>The spymaster gives one curt nod, her finger dropping to the map on the table. "My scouts have spotted a small contingent of Templars on the road to Haven. My intelligence suggests they are from the Ostwick Circle."</p><p>"Any chance they could be friendly?" asks Josephine.</p><p>Evelyn keeps her face a stoic mask though she can feel the blood drain from her already pale complexion.</p><p>"No, Josephine, there is not."</p><p>In the corner of her eye, she sees the Commander tilt his head as if he is on the verge of asking for clarification.</p><p><em>You already know,</em> she wants to snap at him, but she bites down on the inside of her cheek and focuses her gaze on the glowing mark on her hand.</p><p>She takes a deep breath to steel herself for the argument to come.</p><p>"But while we are on the subject, I have decided to seek out the mages help instead of the templars."</p><p>In truth, she had never really considered the alternative a possibility.</p><p>"And I disagree," immediately counters the Commander, "Instead of potentially pouring more power into the Breach, we should suppress it, making it much easier to close."</p><p>"And how exactly am I to survive hundreds of simultaneous Righteous Smites, Commander? If I weren't a mage, perhaps it could work, but I am and I really don't see an alternative."</p><p>She expects him to argue, spout off several strategies that could keep her away from the templars, and yet still accomplish their goal, but instead, he just declines his chin. "The decision is yours, Herald."</p>
<hr/><p>For her first mission in the Hinterlands, she considers it a success. Mother Giselle has returned with them and the road between Haven and Redcliff is clear of warring apostates and templars and she has improved her offensive magic by leaps and bounds in a short time.</p><p>Now if only someone would have shown her how to take off her bloody armor. Back in Haven, she is in her little room, and desperate to get out of the traveling clothes that she hasn't changed in days. But she can't because the overlapping metal plates on her gauntlets got stuck in her hair when she absently shook it out of its binding.</p><p>She has far too much dignity to leave the room looking as ridiculous as she does, one hand perpetually up in the air, and resigns herself to continued futility when the door suddenly opens.</p><p>"Herald, the council is ready for your full report-"</p><p>He pauses after he sees her, his mouth drawing down into a frown as he takes in the struggling woman, the mass of dark hair she normally keeps secure in a tight bun now a wild halo about her head, and accented with five shiny digits poking out within. She can't really see his full expression through the mess but his sigh just radiates disappointment.</p><p>"Here," he says and steps forward. But he is in his armor, and it doesn't matter that it has the eye of the inquisition instead of Andraste's flaming sword, she still backs away, pulling her magic to her, ready to defend.</p><p>
  <em>Don't let them close, Ariana had warned. Don't let them get you alone. But I didn't listen... I should have listened.</em>
</p><p>There is a reason Evelyn is a quick study; she rarely makes the same mistake twice.</p><p>He halts his steps at the rise of magic in the room before slowly drawing his sword using only his thumb and forefinger, clearly meaning for her to watch, and sets it behind him against the wall. Waiting the space of a breath, he pulls a small, short dagger from his belt, flipping it so that the hilt is in her direction.</p><p>Confused, she takes it.</p><p>She is even more confused when he lifts her hand to rest the edge of the blade against his neck.</p><p>"A large artery runs just there. One cut and a man will bleed out in seconds. Keep it there while I work."</p><p>He is tall enough (or she short enough) to see the damage from the top of her head and is able to work free the curls that have bunched in the joints after only a few short moments. She expects to smell the sharp tang of Lyrium but she only catches soap and hints of the trees that surround Haven.</p><p>"Take this," he says handing her the glove once he is finished and takes a step back. "Keep that." His amber eyes flick down to the dagger in her hand before he retrieves his sword by the door and waits to escort her to the others.</p><p>And, for the first time, she doesn't know what to make of him.</p>
<hr/><p>She is cold.</p><p>So bloody cold.</p><p>Not even when, as punishment for starting a fire, she had to endure buckets of ice water dumped over her body while Templars smirked at her sodden smallclothes did she feel this cold.</p><p>Though, she considers, perhaps this is good. For years, the only death she could imagine was at the end of a Templar's blade but recent events had expanded the possibilities in all manner of horrible. Exploding arrow, poisonous trap, dragon fire, and bear mauling were significantly higher on the list now.</p><p>So, really, freezing quietly to death is about the most peaceful option left to her. If only half her chest wasn't broken and she didn't have a gash the size of her forearm in her side, it might have been downright pleasant.</p><p>She spats the blood from her mouth into the white snow, watching as the blizzard around her buries it in seconds and wonders if they will come back for her body, and, if the anchor is still active, will they just cut off her hand and leave her to rot.</p><p>She would die a mage in the heart of the Frostbacks, her ribs broken and blood freezing to her wounds, but her fade-blasted-hand may go on to have quite the future as an artifact of the Chantry.</p><p>Evelyn suddenly wishes she would have worked harder to break the nervous habit of biting her nails.</p><p>She tries to pull on her mana from the fade to warm her blood, a final effort to save her life, but it fell away like the weakest rain and she gave into the black expanse that had been creeping at the edge of her consciousness.</p>
<hr/><p>She is in pain.</p><p>So much bloody pain, as someone pulls on her arm to dislodge her from the snow. But she cannot draw enough breath to scream, and it takes all her willpower to break the shell of ice that has sealed her lids together. The figure above her is an amorphous dark spot in swirling snow, save for the brightly glowing cylinder hanging from its neck.</p><p><em>Fur?</em> she thinks.<em> Maybe it'll be a bear mauling after all.</em></p><p>When it lifts her up from the ground, she can feel the shards of her ribs grind together, and she welcomes the dark with open arms.</p>
<hr/><p>She <em>will</em> stay on her feet. They are looking to her for hope and she cannot take that away because of uneven terrain.</p><p>They were all there when she awoke, staring at her with wide eyes and prayers falling from their lips, as their fingers reached out to brush against her robes.</p><p><em>Andraste's tits</em>, they even sang.</p><p>And so she will not falter in this simple task of staying upright.</p><p>But then the snow beneath her shifts and she is too weak to counter the sudden weight displacement.</p><p>
  <em>Some Herald of Andraste. Survive an ancient Tevinter magister and his dragon just to die from bashing my head on a rock.</em>
</p><p>Before white can rush up to hit her in the face, there is an arm about her waist righting her.</p><p>"You're getting on a horse."</p><p>The words are clipped, spoken right at the shell of her ear through clenched teeth. Cullen calls his steed closer with a loud whistle, and the beast trots effortlessly up to their side. She wants to argue just for the principle of it, that she will never be under a templar's order again, but she is exhausted and there is dampness on her bandages that suggest she may have torn her stitches.</p><p>With his help, she manages to get on with minimal embarrassment and tries to sit tall and straight though it is only an hour before he has to join her in the seat to keep her from falling out the saddle. She does not lean into him for a full ten minutes, not until he bends his head down.</p><p>"Rest, Herald. Your people will not think less of you for it."</p><p><em>You hate my people,</em> she thinks but then he lifts the reins in his grip, his arms caging her in on either side, blocking the wind and the blinding white of the snow. For the first time in days, she feels warm.</p><p>As she drifts off, she hopes the history books will be kind and leave out the part where she drooled on the Commander of the Inquisition Forces' cloak.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The skin under her bandage itches and Evelyn cannot wait to change it, tapping her foot in her impatience for everyone to be dismissed from the War Room.</p><p>"There is one more thing we should discuss," says the Commander as he reaches into the inner folds of his cloak and Evelyn feels every muscle in her body tense when he places the vial on the war table. She doesn't need to see the name carved along the side to know whose it is.</p><p>"What is it?" asks Josephine, her head tilting to get a better look.</p><p>"A phylactery," answers Cassandra.</p><p>"<em>My</em> phylactery," corrects Evelyn, her eyes narrowing as she tears her gaze away to level it on the Templar across the table. "Why in the Fade do you have my phylactery?"</p><p>The man has the nerve to look guilty before clearing his throat. "The Templars from Ostwick brought it with them when they heard you were the sole survivor."</p><p>"And you're just telling me this now," Evelyn snaps.</p><p>"At the time, I did not know what role you played in the death of the Divine and keeping it until we were certain of your innocence seemed to be the most prudent course."</p><p>"Or a foolproof way to kill me at the first sign of my guilt, you mean."</p><p>"They did not know. The Templars would only speak to me and I did not share the information. The fault lies with me and me alone. I intended to discuss it with you all back in Haven but we were attacked before the opportunity arose."</p><p>Evelyn pinches the bridge of her nose, willing herself to calm down. Demons were drawn to the anchor from the Fade and constantly looked for any foothold in her consciousness and she has not come this far to fall now.</p><p>"Fine, what's done is done," she says and reaches out over the table, "We can destroy it now."</p><p>But the Templar raises his hand, palm out over the vial though he does not touch it. "Herald, I used the phylactery to find you in the Frostbacks. Without it, there is no question you would be dead and our cause would be lost. It could be useful again."</p><p>
  <em>That was you?</em>
</p><p>She shakes the thought away. He is overlooking the obvious.</p><p>"Enemy templars could use it to track me down. Blood mages could use it to bind me or taint my connection to the Fade. It is a liability."</p><p>"Not if it is kept safe and secure," intones Cassandra. "I agree with Cullen. It could be invaluable if we are separated from you again."</p><p>"How do you intend to keep it safe?" asks Josie and Evelyn feels dread gather in her gut.</p><p>They will keep it. It will be in the hands of a Knight Commander, regardless of whatever they call him now.</p><p>She will never truly leave the Circle.</p><p>"Same as we already have," replies Leliana as if it were obvious. "No one else can know so it has to be someone in this room. Cassandra cannot take it as, Andraste forbid, whatever fate befalls the Herald would likely involve her as well. And Josie, while you would not be suspected to carry such a thing, you would have little means to defend it if discovered. And though I could keep it safe, we still run into our final issue. The Commander is the only one among us who has the ability to use it."</p><p>Cassandra and the Commander share a look but say nothing else and in the resulting silence, Evelyn knows they are waiting for her to speak.</p><p>"If I'm going to agree to this," she begins, pushing herself up from where she had hunched over the table, "the Commander has to agree to something himself."</p><p>The Templar's brow raises, waiting.</p><p>"He has to let me enchant it."</p><p>His posture shifts, his head already moving in a slow shake. Emboldened by his discomfort, Evelyn keeps talking. "I have to magick it such that no one but myself can remove it from his person, not even him. Any attempt to dispel the enchantment will cause the vial's destruction. That is my condition."</p><p>"No."</p><p>Evelyn raised her brow. "What's the matter, Commander? Suddenly the price not worth it?"</p><p>His face morphs into something hard and distant and she feels cold satisfaction.</p><p>
  <em>Ah, there you are, Knight-Commander.</em>
</p><p>He picks the vial up and tucks it back into his pocket. "Fine. I'll have it with me in my office when you're ready."</p><p>The door echoes behind his retreating form and Evelyn finds herself under the sharp gaze of the spymaster. "Did your Grand Enchanter ever tell you what became of the circle at Kinloch?"</p><p>Racking her memory for any discussion about the events that occurred nearly a decade ago, she shrugs.</p><p>"We were a very insular Circle. The Templars did not allow free communication to our sisters and brothers. All we were told was that there was an abomination and the Hero of Fereldan prevented the need for a full annulment."</p><p>The spymaster's lips pursed. "I was there. So was the Commander. The horrors I saw that day still invade my nightmares. Cullen endured days of such tortures and has somehow kept his sanity. I'm not saying he was a perfect Templar but he left the Order before the disruption of the Circles because he felt the organization had lost its way."</p><p>She reaches out, her hand resting on Evelyn's shoulder. "Give him a chance. He wishes to do good, I assure you. Regardless, we must reach some sort of peace between you both if we have any hope of success."</p><hr/><p>It is hours later that she bursts into his office without preamble, the winds that follow her scattering the papers on his desk before she shuts the door. And though he looks slightly pained, he otherwise appears unsurprised to see her and rises from his seat.</p><p>"Another condition, I presume?" he asks, folding his arms over his chest.</p><p>"Tell me about Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall."</p><p>He lets out a short breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.</p><p>"I don't care what Leiliana or Cassandra say," Evelyn continues, marching up to rest her fists against the wood between them. "If you are going to keep my phylactery, I have to know. I will not put my freedom in the hands of a monster."</p><p>Cullen gave a short, humorless laugh before withdrawing her phylactery to set it on the desk. "You should take that now then."</p><p>But she doesn't grab it and he sits in his chair, one hand dragging down his face. "What do you know already?"</p><p>Evelyn huffs out a breath of air leftover from her lingering frustration. "Leliana said you were trapped with abominations for days and Varric was infuriatingly vague, except to say you had 'seen and done some shit but in the end, made the right choices'."</p><p>He nods then flicks his eyes to the seat next to her.</p><p>"Sit."</p><p>Hesitating, she glances back at the well-worn chair and decides the information is worth this concession.</p><p>"Kinoch Hold was my first position in the Templar Order. After about a year of being stationed there, a mage by the name of Uldred and some younger practitioners took up blood magic, allowing the entire circle to be overrun with abominations. I and my brothers were taken and imprisoned. One by one they disappeared until only I remained. The demons had given me hope so many times before, taking the form of my friends, of reinforcements, such that when the Wardens and the others arrived, I thought it was just another illusion."</p><p>"I wanted her to kill them all, but Solona Amell was a mage herself from that very circle and she was able to bring who she could from the brink, preventing the necessity of Annulment. For a long time I felt angry and betrayed that retribution for the Templar lives lost was never taken. So, when the opportunity came to change Circles and move to Kirkwall, I took it. Knight Commander Meredith specifically asked for me and I thought I had found a Circle that viewed mages and their risk to the World as I did. "</p><p>"But this time, the unrest started within our own ranks. A recruit named Wilrod turned into an abomination, and the Knight Commander tainted herself with red lyrium before the grand Enchanter embraced blood magic... So when the Kirkwall Circle fell, this time due to the corruption of the Templars and mages alike, I realized both sides were broken, stuck in a perpetual cycle of paranoia and rebellion. In the end, I sided with Hawke to bring down Meredith and protect the innocent as best I could. Afterward, Cassandra offered me this position and I accepted."</p><p>"The apostate mage, Marian Hawke? The one who sparked the rebellions?"</p><p>"Yes. Oddly enough, her cousin was Solona, the Hero of Fereldan," he says and frowns at her. "Please tell me you're not related to them as well."</p><p>Evelyn lets out a sharp laugh before she realizes he is quite serious. "Um, no. I was the first mage for generations in my family, if I recall correctly."</p><p>He seems mildly relieved. "Is that answer sufficient, then?"</p><p>She hesitates for a moment, considering before she picks up the phylactery. Part of her desperately wants to dash it against the stones on the floor, but it is true it is the reason she is not currently carrion for Leliana's crows.</p><p>"You swear it, that you will keep it safe?"</p><p>"I will."</p><p>She circles the desk to stand before him and he slowly rises from his seat. They are silent the long moments it takes him to remove his armor and set his cuirass aside.</p><p>He looks strange to her, half-armored but still so much larger than herself, and she has to stand on her tiptoes to slide the leather strap that holds the phylactery about his neck to tuck it within his tunic.</p><p>"Ready?"</p><p>His jaw rolls for a second before he closes his eyes and gives one short nod, and Evelyn rests her palm over the covered vial suffusing her will to enchant it to him and her alone. There is something oddly intimate about the moment, him in partial undress while she binds her blood to his body, but she refuses to dwell on it, keeping her focus on the task at hand. In a moment, it is finished and he is turning away from her, quickly donning his armor before he exits to the battlements.</p><p>It is weeks before she sees him anywhere but the War Room again.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Lyrium withdrawal. Maker's breath... No wonder.</em>
</p><p>The Commander looks terrible. The light brown leather strap that holds her phylactery is a contrast to the rest of his palid skin which is a frightening shade too close to the loose white tunic he wears. Perspiration dots his brow despite the cold air and the lack of his usually present cloak. </p><p>"How long?" she asks.</p><p>He shrugs, "Several months. Ever since Kirkwall. It has only recently gotten this bad."</p><p>She glances at the bright blue liquid on his desk. "Were you about to take it when I came in?"</p><p>"I... I don't know."</p><p>"Do you want to take it?"</p><p>"Maker's breath, no! I want to be free of the Order, once and for all. "</p><p>"It shouldn't be in here, then," she says, moving to stand between him and the box that houses that vile blue liquid. She fully intends to push him back and destroy that thing but he rushes at her, his hand stilling hers where it reaches for the box.</p><p>Evelyn can't breathe for how close he is, his body curled over hers and his breathing ragged.</p><p>He speaks in her ear, as he's done before, but this time it is rough and strained, like the string of a bow about to let loose.</p><p>"I need to know I can resist the temptation."</p><p>She can feel his words drip down her spine, desperate and wild, causing her heart to skitter in her chest like a frightened hare.</p><p>
  <em>No, not frightened.</em>
</p><p>She is surprised she feels none of the panic she thought she would, the last time she was this close to a man, he too had been a templar.</p><p>
  <em>But different, so different.</em>
</p><p>That had been rough with metal slats that pinched her skin, alcohol and lyrium on his breath, and tears in her eyes.</p><p>And she felt nothing like the warmth she feels now in her belly under Cullen's amber gaze and gentle, but firm grip.</p><p>She shifts to face him more fully before placing her other palm on the desk to push herself up and she slides back, sitting and waiting. She is uncertain of what exactly she is hoping for and the moment feels fragile enough that just a word could break it.</p><p>His adam's apple bobs as he swallows and he leans into her, lowering his forehead to press against her shoulder.</p><p>For several long seconds, that is all that happens, all she thinks will happen, until she feels it, the brush of lips against her collarbone. Her breath stilts as he repeats the motion, featherweight touches over her skin and his hand leaves hers to tug at her collar, opening the neck of her blouse wider. Warmth blooms in the wake of his attentions and she sighs, content to lose herself to the sensation. Her eyes have slid closed so she feels rather than sees him step more fully into the space between her knees, and she has to remind herself that this isn't real, she is just a distraction from the craving in his blood. Templars, even former ones, do not hold soft feelings for mages.</p><p>Her thoughts are cut off with the scrape of his teeth against her earlobe as his arm wraps around her back to press them closer, and her legs spread to accomodate his demand. He radiates heat and his breathing is deep and ragged in her ear, and she swears he is shaking, a vibrating tremor in the muscles under her fingertips.</p><p>The hand that had been at her back lifts to twine into the hair near her scalp, and with a force just shy of painful, he pulls it to the side, exposing the path from her ear to her shoulder more fully. What had started as a gentle exploration was now bordering on hedonistic, the commander sucking and biting before soothing the ravaged skin with his tongue.</p><p>She had seen couples do such things in hidden alcoves and dark corners of the circle and wondered at the appeal. But now she thinks she understands, an invisible tether attached from her neck to her core that feels molten and empty all at once and making her want so much more.</p><p>Her magic bubbles under the surface of her skin, sparks of electric energy that she forces to remain underneath.</p><p>She will not hurt him with her magic. Maker, she doesn't want him to stop.</p><p>The grip in her hair and the tug on her neck lessens as he pulls away, his forehead going to rest against her body once more. This time he is lower, his breath ghosting against the swells of her breasts before he plants several opened mouthed kisses to the softness there.</p><p>"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs over her skin and flattens his palms against her back, tipping her to more easily accomplish his goal.</p><p>"Commander Cullen? Sir? I have a report. Sister Leliana said to apologize for the late hour, but it is urgent."</p><p>They both freeze, cold clarity and awareness washing over them as they hear the soldier outside his door. There is a second that they hold each others gaze before it breaks.</p><p>"A moment, soldier."</p><p>And then Evelyn is scrambling away from him to nearly fall off his desk in her haste before darting through the only other door. She doesn't look back to see if he is watching.</p><hr/><p>She is the first to the War Room. Unfortunately, he is the second. There is a long, uncomfortable silence as they both stare down at the table, and he rubs one of the military pieces absently in his hand.</p><p>"Forgive me," he says, voice pitched low enough to barely make it to her ears. "I acted abominably last night. I do not deserve your forgiveness but I do humbly ask for it. It will not happen again."</p><p>The despair that wells up has her gripping the table such that her knuckles blanch white. She could die any day and <em>Maker</em> she just wants to feel the way she did perched on the ledge of his desk again, at least once more.</p><p>It is the only reason she can think of that she responds as she does, her voice, firm and clear, the one she uses to command when out in the field.</p><p>"I didn't tell you to stop."</p><p>It is stupid and foolish but she looks up anyway and steadily holds his shocked expression.</p><p>Blessedly, the door to the War Room bangs open just then, and Leiliana is already pulling out missives and Josie's heels are clicking against the stone floor when she looks away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evelyn turns her face up into the light shower, the sparkling bits of water turned dazzling by the shafts of sunlight that spear through the clouds. This is the fourth (<em>fifth time, maybe?</em>) that she has ever felt the rain on her skin.</p><p>Life in the Circle left little opportunity (<em>absolutely none</em>) for turns out of doors (<em>keep them soft, keep them dependent</em>), and the last few months have been a revelation to her. Fields of golden wheat swaying in a breeze, deafening waterfalls that create the most delicate puffs of foam, the quiet of fresh snow under a purple, golden sunset...</p><p>"You got that look again, Sparkles," mutters Varric.</p><p>"Hmmm?"</p><p>"You know, the one that makes you look like a dwarf that just saw the sky for the first time."</p><p>She quirks an eyebrow at that. "I thought you were a surface dwarf."</p><p>"I am. But I still recognize that stupid look."</p><p>She just smiles and shrugs. "I feel like I've been reborn and everything is new. Nature, magic, people... everything. I know times are dark but sometimes all I can see is the light."</p><p>"And that, my dear, is why I call you Sparkles." Varric shifts to shoulder Bianca. "Well, that and the lightning."</p><p>Evelyn uses her staff to help push her up the hillside, marveling at how much easier this is now. In the beginning, she would tire on their expeditions, frequently having to call a halt so she could catch her breath and struggled in the high altitude of Skyhold. But now she navigates the grounds of their fortress with ease and rarely finds herself with a stitch in her side no matter how vigorous the fight.</p><p>She loves nature.</p><hr/><p>She hates nature.</p><p>The Fallow Mire is an endless bog that can just fuck right off to the Fade as far as she is concerned.</p><p>It has taken days to return to Skyhold from that Maker-forsaken place and yet her boots still squelch ridiculously against the floor of the War Room and she is doing quite the successful impression of a drowned nug. Thinking that bog water must be bewitched to never evaporate, Evelyn tries to not shiver against the chill on her skin that has only worsened in the frigid air of the Frostbacks.</p><p>She is not successful.</p><p>Cullen, as always it seems, is the first to join her. She hasn't spoken to him alone since that morning, having departed for Val Royeaux and then the Fallow Mire immediately after. An entire month sits between that moment and now and Evelyn is struck with two simultaneous thoughts.</p><p>One, the Commander is absurdly handsome.</p><p>Two, she must look like absolute shite right now.</p><p>
  <em>You should not care. It does not matter what he thinks of you.</em>
</p><p>But her heart starts to traitorously thud in her chest, immune to her wishes.</p><p>The Commander steps closer, his eyes moving from her sodden boots to her warped coat, then up to her damp hair, and looks decidedly displeased.</p><p>"Take that off."</p><p>"Wh-what?" she stutters, certain she has misheard.</p><p>"Your coat," he replies. "It's useless."</p><p>She bristles and knows her glare is greatly tempered by the fact that her teeth are chattering. "Skyhold is drafty. It may be wet, but it at least blocks the wind until I can change."</p><p>"And in the meantime, it's leeching all of your body heat. Your shivering so much I can barely comprehend you." He fixes her with a look that makes her toes curl. "Take. It. Off."</p><p>It's the thrill that runs up her spine that has her shucking out of the wet, heavy leathers and tossing them at a chair across the room.</p><p>She can feel his eyes on her as she returns to the table, self-conscious at where her tunic clings to her torso.</p><p>Drowned nug indeed.</p><p>Her focus is resolutely on the map before her when she feels heavy cloth about her shoulders and the tickle of fur at her cheeks.</p><p>
  <em>His cloak.</em>
</p><p>When she looks up he is already moving to the other side of the table and Leliana and Josephine have finally arrived.</p><p>"Leiliana, this couldn't have waited? The Inquisitor is about to freeze to death to give us her report," he asks, tone far milder than the one he used with her.</p><p>The spymaster halts in her steps, glancing from Cullen to Evelyn and then back again. "Of course, Cullen, you are correct. My apologies, Inquisitor."</p><p>Evelyn is suddenly grateful for her chill as it prevents what would have otherwise certainly been a blush. Leliana is nothing but observant and Josephine can pick up on social anomalies like a sixth sense.</p><p>
  <em>Maker, let them think this is just a peace offering. The former Templar and the mage playing nice.</em>
</p><p>But except for a slight raise of the ambassador's brow, there is nothing further said on the matter and Evelyn launches into her report, her teeth considerably more quiet.</p><p>When she is done and orders have been confirmed, she gives one sharp nod before glancing at the others. "Now if that is all?" she prompts, ready to get clean and dry. They rode hard for the majority of the day but still made it back to Skyhold long after nightfall.</p><p>"Yes," says Leliana moving to stand by Cullen's side, "I have a small matter to discuss with the Commander regarding the scouts, but you need not stay for it."</p><p>She starts to shrug off the cloak to return it when Cullen glances her way. "Keep it for now," he says offhandedly, his attention already back on the scroll Leliana has given him. "I will retrieve it at a later time."</p><p>She starts to reply but he is already engaged in conversation, lifting up representative pieces on the map to slide them to their new locations.</p><hr/><p>The walk to her quarters is a long one and she is grateful for Cullen's cloak when she passes by an unrepaired wall or under an open ceiling. She is even more grateful when she sees the steaming tub of water and soaps waiting for her, undoubtedly brought in upon word of their arrival. Leaning her staff against the wall and hanging the cloak on her wardrobe, she pulls the tie from her hair and strips before immediately climbing over the copper walls and sinking beneath the water.</p><p>She stays submerged until her lungs burn then surfaces to soap up her hair and take in her surroundings. The candle votives along the walls have been lit, giving the room a comforting glow, and her valets were considerate enough to face the tub towards the mountains, lending to a spectacular view. But a sickly green tinge mars the warmth in the room. Lifting her left hand from where it rests on the tub's edge, she traces the anchor with her eyes. The bloody thing hurts, a dull persistent throb, and Evelyn wonders if it'll be the thing that actually kills her in the end. She wonders if she'll be all alone when it happens.</p><p>She quickly submerges it to muffle the green light beneath the thick layer of bubbles, and dims the candles in the room to better see the snowfall outside. She is just mustering up the energy to rinse her hair when the door behind her opens and she sits up in a half-turn, her lips parting in shock when she sees the Commander quietly shut the door. She can only stare.</p><p>"You're not in your armor," she says finally and immediately feels stupid for stating the obvious.</p><p>"It frightens you."</p><p>She doesn't know what to say to that and turns her view to the mountains, uncertain and nervous and yet hoping... Her mind is telling her this is dangerous and stupid (<em>she doesn't <strong>know</strong> him</em>) but already her skin tingles in anticipation. It is with a small jolt that she realizes she hasn't been touched since that night on his desk. Not even a handshake or clap on the back.</p><p>"Do you want me to leave?"</p><p>Her answer catches in her throat and she is shocked at how hard it is to ask for this, for a moment of human connection. She is half-afraid he is going to leave when she hears him sigh then say, gently, "You have to answer, Evelyn."</p><p>It's the first time he has called her by her name instead of by one of her honorifics and it is strange what it does to her, like his voice has struck her right in the chest and burrowed under her skin. She swallows thickly and glances back over her shoulder before shaking her head.</p><p>"No. Stay."</p><p>Her next intake of breath is serrated as she listens to his footfalls and the drag of a chair. Though she is more fit than ever before (<em>running up and down the hills of the Hinterlands for weeks on end will do that to a girl</em>), she is glad for the dimmed lights and cover the bubbles provide. She is about to ask him what he is going to do when she feels his fingers press into her neck before they start to rub slow circles at the base of her skull.</p><p>And <em>Maker,</em> it feels glorious. Her muscles there are knotted from sleeping on a lumpy bedroll for weeks on end and she lets out a contented sigh. The movements halt for a second before continuing, this time pressing in more firmly before moving down.</p><p>The soap from her hair has slickened her skin and his hands slide easily to rub at her shoulders until she feels sleepy and boneless.</p><p>"Lean back," he demands, his fingers curling against her collarbones. Some of the bubbles have dissipated in the interim and she swallows nervously to see her breasts nearly exposed when she rests against the back of the tub. She is about to cross her arms over herself when there is a press of lips to the skin behind her ear.</p><p>"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs against her and she can feel his voice down to her bones.</p><p>One hand moves then, a swift slide down her front into the water, his palm rolling over a nipple and she swallows a gasp. There is a sharp sudden inhalation from the man behind her and he does it again, this time thumbing it before cupping her all in his hand.</p><p>And try as she might, Evelyn can't stop the small whimper that escapes nor the reflex to push herself up against where he touches her. The chair behind her scrapes the floor as if being kicked away and he moves closer, his front pressing to her back. Then slowly, so slowly, his other hand slides up to wrap around her throat to exert a gentle pressure and hold her to him.</p><p>It should worry her, it should feel like a threat.</p><p>But it is something else entirely.</p><p>Tears spring up under her lids, a strange combination of cathartic pleasure and relief that she can't explain.</p><p>At the same moment, he moves to hold her other breast, and the intensity so much more than she thought could be and she comes with a low breathy moan she knows he can feel against his hand.</p><p>When it ends, he is still, his breathing heavy and rapid, while the thumb pressed against her neck rubs slow soothing circles until he withdraws to gently nudge her forward. Obeying, she almost jumps when water cascades over her hair, the soap falling from the strands as he rinses it away.</p><p>He retrieves her robe from where the valet left it and holds it out, waiting.</p><p>"I won't look, you have my word."</p><p>It seems a little absurd to her after what just happened but Evelyn is relieved. Her emotions are high and she is not certain she could stand to make herself any more vulnerable.</p><p>Gingerly, she stands and steps out the tub, sliding her arms in the proffered garment to wrap it around herself. Cullen hasn't moved except to squeeze her shoulders where his hands rest over the cloth of her robe.</p><p>"Goodnight, Evelyn."</p><p>And then, taking his cloak, he is gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She is leaving the armory after some much-needed repairs and is just passing the training grounds when she spots him. His back is to her, the sun glinting off his golden hair and armor. From here he looks like a hero from a story of old.</p><p>
  <em>Darling, you're in one of those stories.</em>
</p><p>That thought gives her pause and she adjusts the staff on her back to lean against a fence post. A recruit has missed a key point in his sword training and Cullen is waving him aside to call Barris over to demonstrate. The resulting clang of metal against metal rings loudly in her ears, making her wince. The seasoned templars are unbelievably fast despite their pounds of armor and heavy weaponry.</p><p>And Cullen is quite a sight to behold, especially when he slips past his opponent's defenses to slam an armored elbow to the back of his head, sending the man stumbling forward. He manages to right himself and turn but the Commander is already there, sword raised. There is a series of quick clashes until Ser Barris's sword goes flying to skid to a stop at Evelyn's feet.</p><p>Cullen's eyes meet hers and she catches a small wince before he is all Commander again.</p><p>"Inquisitor," he greets and sets the tip of the sword in the grass before him, both his hands resting loosely against the pommel. "Is there something you need?"</p><p>"No, just observing."</p><p>He frowns slightly at that before giving her a curt nod to return to his duties.</p><p>His efficiency with a blade should give her pause, but it doesn't. <em>He is good at this,</em> she thinks, watching him move among the soldiers, correcting their movements, showing them the proper grip, and how to maneuver a shield.</p><p>The memory of a large hand at her throat, pinning her against a broad chest flashes up in her mind, bringing with it a flush of awareness as her eyes are drawn to his hands.</p><p>
  <em>Why did I enjoy that?</em>
</p><p>She glances at some of the other men in the area, her eyes falling back to Ser Barris. He is a fairly attractive fellow and has so far seemed the decent sort, treating her and any other mage with respect.</p><p>But she immediately feels the old panic well up in her chest when she thinks about his hand at her throat instead of Cullen's and she recoils, taking quick steps back to put space between herself and the training grounds. Feeling her face flush out of embarrassment for such a visceral reaction, she turns and walks away.</p><p>
  <em>Maker, what does that mean?</em>
</p><p>She is crossing the garden when she spots Cole studying the flowers in quiet repose. The not-boy makes her uneasy but she senses no malice and whatever he may be, he is one of her people now.</p><p>"Hello, Cole. How are you?"</p><p>His blank eyes stare forward. "He dreams of violet fire and blue chains but it's the skin that burns. What he wants so different from what he deserves, but she lets him near. He doesn't know why. And like a flower to the sun, he follows." White lids flutter and he looks up from his cross-legged position on the bench. "You're too bright. Like counting birds against the sun. And the mark makes you more. All the hopes you carry, fears you fight. The weight of it all on you. It must be very hard. I hope I help."</p><p>Evelyn manages a strained smile. "Thank you, Cole. You do. Mind if I join you?"</p><p>He says nothing more and she sits with him, watching the clouds pass overhead as she ponders her thoughts and Cole's words. She hopes to sort it out before she returns from the Storm Coast.</p><hr/><p>She does not return with good news from the Wardens. She does, however, return with-</p><p>"A Ben-Hassrath agent and his band of mercenaries?" asks Cullen, incredulous.</p><p>"In addition to being a very able fighter, the Iron Bull can get us information from Ben-Hassrath-" begins Evelyn defensively before deflating, "but he said he is to pass on what he can of the Breach to his people. "</p><p>Leliana frowns. "Not a very clandestine spy, then."</p><p>"No, but we need allies."</p><p>"Though allying with the Quanari is likely to alienate any fledgling Chantry support," says Josie with a frown.</p><p>Evelyn scoffs, "That was shot the moment I fell out the Fade."</p><p>Josie waves her hand crisply in the air once as if to say 'moving on', and pulls out a scroll to set on the table, flowery Orlesian script flowing over the page. "In other news, we have verified credence to the plot to assassinate Empress Celene and both warring factions have reached out. Thwarting or supporting the attempt could gain us the military backing of the victor, assuming we choose correctly, of course."</p><p>"How do we decide?"</p><p>"There is a summit in Halamshiral, under the cover of a masquerade ball. We have been invited to attend. I'm sure the Emperess and Gaspard de Chalons will make their respective arguments at that time."</p><p>Drawing back from the war table, Evelyn frowns. "A ball? With Orlais royalty? I've been locked in a circle for the past fifteen years. This will be a disaster."</p><p>"You're a noble," counters Josie, "I'm sure your childhood training will come back to you. Regardless, a few refreshers would not go amis."</p><p>Huffing out a disgruntled breath, she nods her consent. They need the Orlesian army. "Fine. Anything else?"</p><p>Cullen clears his throat. "Yes, Inquisitor. We have a new arrival at Skyhold..."</p><hr/><p>When Evelyn meets Marian Hawke, several descriptors come to mind (<em>powerful, beautiful, terrifying</em>) but the one that screams out to her is 'feral'. The woman has a wild, snapping energy about her that pulls as much as it repels.</p><p>"Come, Inquisitor," says the Apostate, "Varric says you have grown much more comfortable in a fight but still stay too far back."</p><p>Evelyn blinks and starts after the woman who is already marching across the open training grounds. "But... that's where a mage is supposed to be in battle. It's a sound strategy."</p><p>The smirk Hawke tosses over her shoulder is practically predatory. "The people who told you that are the ones with the swords and shields."</p><p>Evelyn frowns. "Well, there is one thing I've been working on. Enchanter Vivienne has-"</p><p>"Great. Show me while we spar."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Hawke leads her out the bridge to Skyhold into a small flat plain beyond. "This will do."</p><p>A flurry of distant hoofbeats has Hawke grinning over Evelyn's shoulder.</p><p>"Oh, an audience!" she says, waggling her eyebrows.</p><p>Leliana and Cullen are in the front of the small grouping moving briskly in their direction, the spymaster with her bow strapped to her back and the Commander with his hand tightly gripping the reins of his horse.</p><p>"What is the meaning of this?" snaps Leliana as she dismounts.</p><p>"Ah, yes, Sister, good of you to join us." She turns to look up at Cullen and grins. "Hello, Curly. Varric tells me your Herald needs some training up."</p><p>"She has Knight Enchanter Vivienne and Captaine Helaine for combat training," replies the Commander. "Forgive me Hawke, but you are not exactly a bastion of restraint. This is unwise."</p><p>"Is Corypheus's army not made up almost entirely of red templars and abominations?" asks the mage, throwing her arms wide. "Those things are practically my specialty if you recall. Seriously, name another mage better equipped with practical experience to teach her. You can't. Because it's me, love."</p><p>Evelyn watches alarmed as the Commander's ears actually turn pink.</p><p>"She has a point," concedes Leliana, "I should try to reach Solona again. So few mages have extensive combat experience. Her input could be invaluable."</p><p>"Until then, though... what do you say, Inquisitor?" smirks the Apostate in an obvious challenge.</p><p>Commander Cullen is pinching the bridge of his nose as if he has just been assaulted by the worst headache. "For the record, I am against this."</p><p>"I won't break her, Curly. She can handle it."</p><p>The face each across the field, the tattered pieces of cloth on Hawke's wicked-looking staff fluttering in the breeze. Cloaking herself in a barrier, it barely solidifies when Hawke sends a barrage her way, a series of lightening wisps that Evelyn dissolves with her own but the ground rattles as the apostate slams her weapon down and the rocks beneath her feet rocket upward.</p><p>But Evelyn has engaged her fade cloak, and while weak due to her lack of mastery, it manages to stay long enough for her to avoid the blast before resuming a solid-state. Lightning crackles from the end of her staff, searing the air before it hisses against Hawke's barrier, dissolving it. Her satisfied grin is gone almost as quickly as it started because the Apostate is spinning her staff, a flurry of magic sending Eveyln stumbling back to counter.</p><p>She's barely got her footing when a wall of flame rises up to rush in her direction, and Evelyn throws up a barrier of ice in desperation. There is a hiss of steam and she is blinded, stepping back from the heat. A heavy shadow breaks the fog and she moves on instinct, rolling just in time to avoid the downward swing of Hawke's staff, her own being knocked from her hand in the process.</p><p>Hawke is an absolute menace with that thing and Evelyn can only scramble backward, twisting and turning to avoid her blows. Then there is a misstep and one clips her shoulder, the pain from the strike and the burn of flame melding into one as she falls to the ground. A glance tells her the head of the staff has already moved on, its momentum going up over Hawke's head in preparation to swing it down.</p><p>Evelyn pulls the empty hilt at her side and conjures her spirit blade, the bright yellow beam hissing into existence in time to catch the incoming attack.</p><p>The apostate's eyes widen and she smiles over their interlocked weapons, looking positively delighted.</p><p>Evelyn, on the other hand, is positively<em> pissed</em> and, using some dirty moves learned courtesy of Sera, slams her foot into the outer corner of the other woman's knee while pushing her staff to the side with the crossguards on her hilt. It's not much but it allows her enough breathing room to get back to her feet and renew her barrier just in time for Hawke to resume her advance.</p><p>Sparks of yellow and blue drip around them as they connect again and again and Evelyn is just starting to feel her confidence return when the back of Hawke's staff dips suddenly low, catching her at the back of her feet. The world upends as she is thrown to her back, knocking the wind from her lungs while her spirit blade sputters and dies.</p><p>And then Marian Hawke stands over her, her short black hair ruffling in the breeze. "I can work with this," she says appreciatively and extends her hand down to pull Evelyn to her feet. "Again?"</p><p>Evelyn nods, still too winded for words, and retrieves her staff, pointedly avoiding the Commander's thunderous scowl.</p><hr/><p>They continue for hours until Evelyn's exhaustion is so profound, she is unable to block a simple fireball spell Hawke had meant only as misdirection. In the resulting distraction, she is not braced for the full swing of Hawke's staff to her gut, the force of which drops her to her knees.</p><p>"Enough!" shouts someone in the distance, "Maker take it, this is done."</p><p>Through her sputtering gasps where she braces her palms against the scorched grass, she sees Solas, Cullen, and Leliana run-up to her, the mage's hand already glowing with healing light.</p><p>"Here, drink this," says Leliana, kneeling at her side to press a vial of Lyrium to her lips. Evelyn pulls a face at the smell but she's turned herself inside out by using up so much magic, so she drinks it anyway while others yell in the background.</p><p>"What...did...restraint!?"</p><p>"Fine. Red... won't be..."</p><p>"You sho..."</p><p>"It's... for her!"</p><p>Her hearing returns as she drains the contents of the bottle, but the heated conversation is over, and she lowers it in time to see Varric pushing a sneering Hawke away from Cullen who looks like he is about to follow them. Despite the hostility, neither has their weapons drawn.</p><p>"Commander!" shouts Solas, "Help us get her to a horse. Her mana reserves are dangerously low and she needs to rest."</p><p>"No, really, I can wal-"</p><p>But then he is lifting her and the world is spinning. She slams her eyes shut and presses her cheek to the cool, cold metal of his cuirass, his steps feeling far more jarring than they actually are.</p><p>"Here," she eventually hears Leliana's soft lilt somewhere above her, "Pass her up to me."</p><p>There is a pause followed by a light scoff. "I am capable of keeping her from falling off the horse for the short distance to the Hold. The stairs to her quarters, however, are all yours, Commander."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She rolls to her side, and seeing Cullen is still there sighs. "Come on, out with it," she says, her voice partially muffled by a blanket.</p><p>The man looks up from where he was rubbing his temple. "What?"</p><p>"If we're going to argue about me learning from Hawke, let's do it now and get it over with."</p><p>He frowns, head tilting slightly. "While I fully intend to have a conversation with that woman, I have no criticism for you."</p><p>That makes her tug the blanket down and she fixes him with a disbelieving look.</p><p>"Hawke is right that she's spent more time fighting those with a sword and shield than most. She does have valuable knowledge to share, but there are layers to teaching combat and she was going full tilt at you right at the start."</p><p>"But you didn't try to stop it."</p><p>One eyebrow lift's and he folds his arms over his chest. "Two-thirds of your advisors and most of your companions were on that field watching. Half our soldiers had climbed the parapets to try to see the fight. Any further attempt to stop you would have undermined your rank in the Inquisition."</p><p>Evelyn considers this and pushes herself up in the bed, ignoring the question she sees in his gaze. "Yes, well, I concede you have a point."</p><p>"I would appreciate a-" his statement is cut-off with a hiss, his fingers going up to his temples once again and Evelyn is kicking off the blanket to scramble over to him. She pools the healing magic to her and with a nudge, replaces his hands with hers. It is a few more seconds until his brow smoothes out and his eyes open. For a moment he just watches her, his hazel gaze unreadable until they widen and he jerks back.</p><p>Belatedly, Evelyn realizes she just used magic, without permission. On a <em>templar.</em></p><p>
  <em>Stupid, so bloody stupid.</em>
</p><p>And suddenly she is a little girl again, trying to make herself small enough to escape anyone's notice, small enough to never be a threat. She feels the cool static of fear prickle over her skin as she instinctively braces for a silence or a smite.</p><p>"I'm... I'm sorry," she mutters, moving away but her retreat is stopped when Cullen grabs her wrists.</p><p>"I'm not angry," he says quietly, "Truthfully, I'm more concerned about you using magic at all right now. You've only been resting for the better part of an hour."</p><p>She blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to the calm tones of his voice instead of the angry shout she expected. Rotating her wrist in his light grip, she shows him the anchor. "This gives me a closer connection to the Fade. I seem to recover faster with it."</p><p>He frowns at it but doesn't release her.</p><p>"It hurts you, doesn't it?"</p><p>Her fingers curl into a fist around the anchor, snuffing out the pale green light.</p><p>"It doesn't matter," she says, "It is what it is."</p><p>The fingers at her wrist flex before he stands.</p><p><em>Maker, he is a large man</em>, she thinks, dumbly. She'd be at his chest if she stepped into him and has the silly notion that the exact same thought is coursing through the Commander. What if he had been moved to the Ostwick circle instead of Kirkwall? She can picture his stern gaze watching them but somehow can't imagine him mocking or laughing at her like the Templars there seemed to do so much</p><p>"Would you like to forget about it for a time?" he asks, voice low, pulling her back from the dark halls of Ostwick. He is so close to her, her fingertips could brush the cold metal overlying his chest.</p><p>"Alright," she whispers and the corner of his lip quirks upward.</p><p>"Get on the bed."</p><p>She can hear the creak of his armor as he hastily unlatches his gauntlets and she moves to the headboard. The sun is now lowering over the Frostbacks, the waning light bouncing through the stained glass and over her floor and bed.</p><p>There are two thuds when he kicks off his boots and then he is there, leaning over her and supporting his weight on his elbow. Evelyn is struck with the idea that he is going to kiss her and he hasn't done that yet, right? No, she would have remembered, certainly...</p><p>But instead of lowering his lips to hers, his mouth descends over her neck while his hand traces the outline of her breasts down to the curve of her waist. Her own hand tentatively starts to sweep up his neck into his hair but he goes momentarily rigid before taking her wrist and setting it next to her head.</p><p>The message was gentle but well understood.</p><p>
  <strong>I touch you. You don't touch me.</strong>
</p><p>So many questions threatened to tumble forth at that moment.</p><p>
  <em>What is wrong? Are you frightened of me? Do I repulse you in some way? Why won't you let me touch you? Is it because I'm a mage?</em>
</p><p>But she couldn't bring herself to say them when the flat of his palm skimmed over her chest and his fingers started to flick open the buttons of her top. Goosefleshed pebbles over her bare skin as the cloth was parted, exposing her to the cool air.</p><p>She closes her eyes, the myriad of light from the stained glass playing beneath her lids and it is like every touch creates a symphony of color.</p><p>The scrape of his teeth against her collarbone. <em>Red.</em></p><p>The squeeze of his hand over her breast. <em>Blue</em>.</p><p>The slight pinch when he tweaks her nipple. <em>Green.</em></p><p>And on and on until Cullen shifts his hand lower, the flat of his palm sliding down the plane of her abdomen to the laces of her pants.</p><p>"Tell me if you want me to stop."</p><p>But her body just thrums with anticipation as he pulls the strings loose and slides his hand underneath.</p><p>Evelyn had touched herself in the quiet dark of her room back at the circle, slivers of physical joy that were punctuated by the loneliness that came after. But those stolen moments hadn't prepared her for the feeling of his calloused finger tracing down her seam nor did it allow her to stifle her gasp when he pressed into her body at the same moment his mouth lowered onto her breast.</p><p>Her hands twisted in the sheets beneath her to prevent her from reaching for him like instinct told her to and his attentions halted. The bed dipped as he pulled one of her hands to meet the other and now caged together in his grip over her head, he held them there.</p><p>She feels wanton, the way she spreads her legs to let him reach deeper inside her, a slow-rolling pressure against her inner walls. His grip on her wrists above her head is bruising but she <em>likes</em> it, this feeling of being pinned down, exposed and open to him. A faint voice in the back of her mind is slightly horrified, screaming that she shouldn't like this in any way, with any man but another withdraw and thrust of his fingers silences it better than she ever could.</p><p>Cullen tore away from her breast when she clenched down on the repeat intrusion, a low growl rumbling from his chest, that seemed to coil the knot within her even more. And when his thumb pressed against her nerves there, it was like a string pull taut from the tension at her wrist to where his mouth kissed her skin and his fingers pressed deep into her body. And then she unravels.</p><p>The sheen of sweat on her skin had formed ice crystals from her unintentional magic and she shivers. Cullen was breathing heavily against her, his face hidden against her shoulder when he reached down and pulled the blanket over her before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. She was still staring at the ceiling when he had finished replacing all of his armor and rose and looked over at her briefly, his mouth opening as if he was going to speak. But then he frowned, his hand going up to the back of his neck before falling again.</p><p>"You need to eat. I'll have the kitchen send up food," he says quickly before leaving.</p><hr/><p>Her fingers curl over the rough stone of the parapets as she spies Cullen and Dorian below playing chess. From here she can see the self-satisfied smirk on Cullen's face as he proclaims checkmate once again and Dorian dismissively waves to reset the board. To say the friendship between the two had been surprising was an understatement.</p><p>A gregarious Tevinter mage friends with a rigid Templar...</p><p>
  <em>That templar has been in your bed. Maker, that templar had parts of himself in your body.</em>
</p><p>Her cheeks heat and warmth floods her belly as she remembers that evening but dissipates as she recalls his hasty exit.</p><p>
  <em>Why do you come to me at all?</em>
</p><p>"He is quite the enigma, isn't' he?"</p><p>Evelyn startles and looks up to see Hawke leaning against the wall observing the same scene below. "Former templar of one of the most brutal circles in Thedas now commander of a mage's army." She shook her head and shrugged. "I've seen him bash in a man's skull with his shield and I've seen him blush and stammer when he tries to question prostitutes in a brothel."</p><p>"What? That... I don't.. " stammers Evelyn frowning in confusion and Hawkes huffs a short laugh.</p><p>"You can't make heads or tails of him either?"</p><p>Sighing, Evelyn shakes her head. "Not in the least. But I trust him."</p><p>"Yeah, me too." The Apostate straightens and jerks her head towards the field they use to train. "You wanna go blow shit up?"</p><p>Releasing the stone wall, Evelyn smiles. "I'd be delighted."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Interacting with the court of Halamshiral is like gravel against her nerves and she is tempted to banish every mask, every feather, every single stupid sequin to the Fade. But she smiles and dances and kills and soon the subterfuge is over when she sides with Celene. The confirmed Empress insists the entire Inquisition stays for her re-coronation.</p><p>Evelyn has finally escaped the festivities, sighing in relief when Cullen falls in step at her side. They had crossed paths to deliver quick slips of information during the mission but they were firmly the Inquisitor and her Commander in those moments and she glances at him now, expecting a missive or report.</p><p>"Inquisitor," he says lightly though his posture is tense and his hands flex and release repeatedly at his side. She knows he hates this place and all the frippery that it requires. Evelyn feels suddenly absurd in her Orleasian corset and skirts. She should have never let Vivienne convince her to wear this contraption.</p><p>"I have something I would like to speak to you about," he murmurs and the fabric of his coat brushes her shoulder. She glances over again and finds that his gaze is fixed a little lower than expected and it sends her heart thudding.</p><p>"Of course, Commander."</p><p>With those words, his hand wraps around her arm and he pushes her into the nearest room, pulling the door shut. It is dark except for the low light of a small fire in a hearth, casting shadows that illuminate rows of books and soft leather chairs.</p><p>"Cullen, what-" her words die on her lips as he moves with her, his hands ushering her back towards the wall, step matched for step. His mouth is at her neck the moment her back contacts with the bookshelf, and his hand is squeezing at her bodice. She laments she can barely feel his grip through the rigid boning (she misses the sharp barely-there pain that would contrast so sweetly to the kisses he is applying to her neck).</p><p>This continues for a few glorious seconds before he is dropping to his knees, and Evelyn lets out a shocked half laugh as the Commander lifts the layers of tulle and satin before disappearing under her skirt. The laugh dies as soon as it came when he mouths a kiss over her small clothes, and her hand scrabbles for purchase, knocking over a book that had been left on the shelf's edge. Large hands come up to cup and squeeze her arse while he breathes her in, his fingers hooking over the edge of the fabric separating them.</p><p>"Tell me if you want me to stop."</p><p>He waits a few seconds for any protest before pulling them down and away. As a hand slides down her left leg to lift her knee over his shoulder, Evelyn can't believe he is doing this in an unlocked library of the Winter Palace where they could be discovered at any moment.</p><p>And then she feels the soft, warm swipe of his tongue and coherent thought abandons her.</p><p>Her head lolls back against the books, inhaling in deeply the smell of parchment and ink that pervades the room. It is wicked and exhilarating and she feels so bloody <em>alive</em>. She trembles at the sensations he is creating, her senses hyperaware. She wishes her skirts weren't in her way and she could run her fingers through the waves of his hair. And Cullen, he is relentless, his hands firmly at her hips to hold her steady while he licks her, and her fingers grip the ledge that rests against her backside. She is imagining what it would be like if he actually ever fucked her when he slides two fingers deep inside.</p><p>And when he spreads them, it is only seconds until she comes with a quiet gasp, her heel digging into the fabric at his back.</p><p>Carefully, he lowers her shaking leg back to the ground before extracting himself from her skirts. His hair is mussed and his face flushed with dark and glittering eyes in the low light of the room. Even his previously perfect uniform is rumpled at the shoulder, the ridiculous sash Josie insisted they wear now askew. To Evelyn, he looks-<em> Maker</em>- she doesn't even know but she wants desperately to reciprocate in some way, to make him feel as undone as he looks.</p><p>She reaches for him... and he moves away.</p><p>There is a beat of silence where her hand remains lifted in the air between them and the joy she felt runs out of her like blood from a cut artery.</p><p>"Its because I'm a mage, isn't it?"</p><p>Something complicated flickers across his face, (r<em>egret? shame? I shouldn't care. Why did I allow myself to care?</em>) but it only frustrates her further.</p><p>"Is that all this has been the whole time?" she asks, her voice sounding detached even to her own ears. "Playing circle mage and templar, you get to do what you want but I am not worthy to touch your person?"</p><p>His brow furrows and his lips thin, a quiet fury brewing behind his eyes. This is the look, she has learned, that comes right before he snatches a new recruit by the collar for doing something stupid or snarls at a nobleman too lazy to pull their weight.</p><p>"That is what you think of me?" he asks.</p><p>"You can't stand for me to touch you!" she accuses and he flinches at that. "What other reason is there?"</p><p>He shifts, his eyes closing as if pained before he takes a deep breath. "It's... complicated."</p><p>When he doesn't elaborate, she has to scoff. Evelyn hates this feeling, the one that tells her to go to him, to say she's sorry, and promise she won't ask again. But her pride is stronger than this weakness for him and she has to get out of this room. She steps to pass him when he reaches out, his hand snatching up her fingers.</p><p>The rage she feels is instant, burning incandescently hot, and her magic ripples under her skin, discharging a spark of electricity that is enough to make him drop his hold.</p><p>He mutters a curse, shaking out his hand, but Evelyn is out the door and hurrying down the corridor before he can call her back. She lets out a serrated breath to fight against the phantom stone that is pressing against her chest, the weight of it near suffocating.</p><p><em>Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.</em> <em>You're wasting time and energy on a frivolous thing when there are so many greater worries... foolish, absurd, idiotic. It was nothing. It is nothing. It will be nothing.</em></p><p>Lifting her left hand, she looks at the anchor and for the first time feels a bittersweet comfort in the certainty of her path.</p><p>
  <em>I am the Inquisitor.</em>
</p><p>She lifts her skirts to hurry up a flight of stairs into the guest wing. Outside Cassandra's room, she takes a moment to school her face into the mask she so frequently wears and knocks.</p><p>"Get packing. We're leaving," she announces when the door opens.</p><p>"Thank the Maker," sighs the Seeker before she fixes Evelyn with a look. "Where?"</p><p>"The Exalted Plains. Celene says there are reports of the undead rising in the wake of the Civil War and she thinks it is related to the rifts."</p><p>Cassandra frowns at that but nods, and Evelyn is marching back to her room, already yanking at the laces on the corset of her dress.</p><p>She plans to immolate the damn thing at the first opportunity.</p>
<hr/><p>Dorian takes a seat next to her at camp, stretching out his legs in the grass and resting his back against their shared tree stump. "I have just received an interesting letter from a mutual friend of ours."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"Yes. And while I do love hearing from the Commander, I do find it curious he is inquiring about your well being through me, instead of writing you directly. Especially since you surely have reason to regularly correspond with the leader of your Forces."</p><p>"I received a report today. He is asking we remain in Orlais as he may have a lead on the Red Templar base. Otherwise, his letters are as they've always been," she replies flatly and nudges a log deeper into the flames with her foot. She is telling the truth. With the exception of an occasional expression of concern (<em>for the Inquisitor, not for Evelyn Trevelyn, of course</em>), the Commander has always presented the image of utmost professionalism.</p><p>"Well, mine aren't," he replies dryly before continuing in a softer tone. "Come now, did something happen with you and Cullen?"</p><p>"Sometimes I disagree with my advisors and make my own decisions. He is likely annoyed I left without polling the entire war council first," she deflects with a shrug. Dorian just fixes her with an unimpressed look.</p><p>"Evelyn, I am friends with you both-"</p><p>"Stop it, Dorian," she says, suddenly fierce. "I am <em>not</em> Evelyn Trevelyn. I haven't been that girl in a very long time and I cannot have the things she might have once had." She stands, mortifying tears springing to her eyes. "I am the Inquisitor, Andraste's chosen, and a mage. You know what's waiting for me. <em>I</em> know what is waiting for me. I should stop pretending anything otherwise."</p><p>"Fucking Fereldan Circles," mutters the man as he stands, his hand going to her shoulders. "You are not a thing. You are not a sinister force to be kept under lock and key for the comfort of others. And damn the Circles for treating you that way."</p><p>"The Inquisition is just another Circle, Dorian. My mark, just another phylactery. "</p><p>The other mage's face softens. "While that may be true, Evelyn, you have to believe there will be an after. You have to believe there is something waiting for you. And in the meantime, you have every right to ask for more from this life beyond duty and service."</p><p>Evelyn swipes at her escaped tears and nods before pulling out from underneath his hands. "Thank you, Dorian. I'm going to walk the parameter. I'll be back in time for my watch."</p><p>She ignores the frown that mars his face as she bends down to retrieve her staff and disappears into the dark of the Dalish ruins.</p>
<hr/><p>In a week, a missive arrives.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Inquisitor:</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>We tracked Samson's remaining red templars escorting a supply caravan to a hidden location in the wilderness. It could be his headquarters. I've already begun preparing a squadron of soldiers to accompany me to the rendevous in Churneau in two weeks' time.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I will debrief you there with the details in person.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Commander Cullen</em> </strong>
</p>
<hr/><p>She has just dismounted her horse in their camp when a messenger jogs up. "Inquisitor, the Council is waiting. I can take you to them if you are ready."</p><p>With a nod, she hands off her reigns, and she and Cassandra follow the soldier. Though she is tired and dirty from miles of road, she's learned it is best to get the difficult or unpleasant things out of the way first, and she suspects this meeting will have plenty of both.</p><p>The soldier leads them through a sea of white tents until they arrive at the central-most and pulls back the flap to allow them entry.</p><p>"Inquisitor, Seeker," greets Josie with a bow of her head. "I hope your travels find you well."</p><p>Leiliana smiles that small, enigmatic smile.</p><p>And Cullen, he is staring at the maps before him, his palms flat where he leans over the table. Seeing him again slams into Evelyn like the blow she once took from Hawke's staff and she quickly averts her eyes when he looks up.</p><p>"We are well, thank you, Josie," she manages before stepping closer to the maps, "Tell me what we're looking at here."</p><p>She recognizes their location in Northern Orlais but the topography and markers are otherwise unfamiliar to her. In her peripheral vision, she sees the Commander take a step to put himself directly opposite her.</p><p>"Our patrols spotted the caravan and the scouts tracked it North to the Shrine of Dumat."</p><p>His hand slides a marker nearly to the edge of the map. "It's a two day march from here. They'll have the high ground and a fortress so we strike at night and use the cover of darkness to hide our approach. "</p><p>Evelyn nods her agreement. Its a solid plan, but there's more the others need to know.</p><p>"Varric's source confirms red lyrium is tainted with the blight and it doesn't require ingestion to feel its effects. Cassandra and Varric barely felt anything at all, but Sera, Bull, and Blackwell became sick after a few hours of exposure."</p><p>"And you?" asks Cullen. She tries to find any censure in his question but all she hears is softness (<em>for your position, not for you, never for you</em>). She doesn't dare look up and instead directs her next words to Leiliana.</p><p>"Solas, Dorian, and I have gotten more resistant to the effects over time but the mages accompanying us should be warned. It's going to be difficult for them. They need to stay far behind the line."</p><p>"I brought mostly former Templars and the more seasoned mages and the healers," says Cullen who straightens in her peripheral vision.</p><p>"Good. I will leave the specifics of our approach to you, Commander. We should start preparing for departure at first light tomorrow."</p><p>She turns and leaves the tent, feeling his eyes boring into her back the entire time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>Trigger warnings for violence and mentions of past sexual/physical assault. There will be parts that may seem disorienting but that is intentional to reflect the effect the Red Lyrium is having on Evelyn.</i>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Solas extends his hand, a troubled look crossing his features.</p><p>"The veil is thin here, withered away into something dark and tainted."</p><p>"The thinner the veil, the more difficult the rift," mutters Evelyn, her fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. This was going to be difficult. Battling through corrupted templars and the taint of red lyrium, all to then have to close a powerful rift...</p><p>Solas says nothing though she can see the sympathy in his eyes. The elf has been a strange but steadfast companion and there is a respect between them she values greatly. Together they return to the Inquisition battalion to take their mounts for the last leg of their journey. They aren't even on the grounds of the fortress and already she can feel the distinct queasiness that comes with being near the red lyrium. She feels a rush of sympathy for her fellow mages who are encountering this vile substance for the first time though she prepared them as best she could.</p><p>Cullen (<em>no, the Commander</em>) rides in front on a Fereldan Forder, cloak gone, and in full plate short of a helmet. He tried to speak to her yesterday after he relayed the detailed plans of their attack but Dorian had intercepted him, giving Evelyn just enough time to disappear. Except to confer with the Council, he had stayed away since and she was grateful. Her focus could not take that kind of upheaval. She pulled her eyes back to the horizon as a black structure grew closer, only visible due to the stars it blotted out.</p><p>"We are here," spoke the Commander over his shoulder, "The Shrine of Dumat."</p><hr/><p>The red templars are abominations unto themselves. Monstrous and grotesque, they seem to feel no pain and ambulate with shuddering movements that makes Evelyn's skin crawl.</p><p>She buries her spirit blade into the chest of one and hisses in pain when she slices her wrist on a red shard erupting from its body. Her head swims and she braces her shoulder against the wall to wrap her arm with a piece of cloth she rips from her tunic. A hand grips her shoulder and Cassandra's voice asks if she is alright.</p><p>But it is not Cassandra's face she sees when she looks up. It is another, a face from her past with inky black hair and soulless blue eyes that look at her with only sneering disdain. She is paralyzed with fear for the split second it takes for the Seeker to shake her, and the face is gone.</p><p>"Inquisitor?" asks the woman, her brows furrowed.</p><p>Pushing herself straight, Evelyn nods. "I'm fine, Cassandra."</p><p>She glances around the now cleared room and sees Dorian collapse to his knees, his arm shaking where it braces him against the floor. Cullen makes it to his side before she can and helps the mage to his feet. She is unsurprised to see the other mages are gone, only Solas and herself able to withstand the effects of the tainted Lyrium. The Elf leans heavily on his staff as he approaches them, his pale face a sickly grey with perspiration beading along his brow.</p><p>"Solas, go with Dorian," she tells him and the Elf straightens.</p><p>"I can still assist you-"</p><p>"No, Solas. I'm the only one who can close the rift and our soldiers need but one charge to look after if I am overwhelmed. You can help more by healing the wounded outside."</p><p>He hesitates a moment before bending to slide the Tevinter mage's arm over his shoulder and together they limp out the room, and Cullen gestures for one soldier to go with them.</p><p>Evelyn stands surrounded by her heavily armored troops, every one of them a former member of either the Templars or the Seekers, all once part of the Chantry who think her kind evil. For a moment, they have the flaming sword of Andraste emblazoned on their chests and lips stained bright blue, but she swallows thickly and slams shut her eyes.</p><p><em>It is not real. You're hallucinating. Varric said this was possible</em>.</p><p>When she opens them, the soldiers are once again her people and she shifts the staff in her grip before moving deeper into the belly of the fortress.</p><p>The rift is bloody massive with demons pouring from its maw as fast as they can eliminate them. Evelyn's energy, mana, and will are waning; she has to close it now if they are to have a chance.</p><p>Cloaking herself in her barrier she reaches with her left hand to knit the veil back together. The ends are rotten, disintegrating in her grasp and she pours more of herself into the mark, her world narrowing down to herself and her connection to the fade. Her barrier flickers with each strike the demons throw against it.</p><p>She hears sobbing and she sees a girl, a mage she knew as a child, being dragged away to be made tranquil, her arm outstretched as she begs Evelyn for help.</p><p>
  <em>It's not real.</em>
</p><p>The mocking laughter of a man echoes in her head as he rips the robes of a terrified mage before growling at the rest of them to "move along."</p><p><em>Not anymore</em>.</p><p>The Captain of the guard presses her cheek flat against the wood of a table to see how close he can get the tip of his dagger to her eye before she'll apologize for her insolence.</p><p>
  <em>I'm no longer in the Circle.</em>
</p><p>The taste of blood in her mouth as she lifts herself off the floor and he barks a warning that if she tells anyone, it'll be the rite or the sword.</p><p><em>And I am not powerless</em>.</p><p>She feels as if the fabric of her very core is being torn apart, her magic being sundered from her person. It hurts so bloody much and just when she thinks she will dissolve into nothing if she continues, the rift slams closed and her barrier is gone.</p><p>The ground beneath her bubbles green and she falls.</p><hr/><p>Her world is dark and her consciousness keeps slipping in and out of the Fade, not staying on either side long enough for Evelyn to get her bearings. The sound in her ears is like the wind that howls through the Frostbacks but words float around her though she cannot seem to grasp on to them.</p><p>"Cassandra! We have to get her out of here now! You take point."</p><p>There is a searing pain that ripples across her back and she slides back into the Fade, ankle-deep in a vast black lake illuminated by floating torches.</p><p>"No, Enchanter Trevelyn<em>?"</em> says a voice (<em>please, not him</em>), and in the distance a figure approaches, his steps creating ripples where they connect with the surface of the water but do not drop below. Evelyn tries to move but she just sinks deeper into the oily muck until the lake lurches violently to the side, dumping her onto a cold metal chair.</p><p>"Evelyn, you need to drink this!"</p><p>The world twists again and she is enveloped in velvety black water, this time up to her neck, her arms trapped at her side. Merrick is standing over her, his head tilting as if she is a particularly troubling specimen. "Who do you think you are, Trevelyn?"</p><p>He sets the toe of his boot on her forehead and slowly pushes her under, the black sludge rushing into her mouth and nose.</p><p>Something cold and smooth touches her lips but then she inhales and violently shoves it away, throwing herself to the ground. The smell of blood and sweat and lyrium is overwhelming and her mind screams <em>Merrick </em>and<em> silence </em>and<em> sword</em>.</p><p>The light is bright and her vision is blurry but all around her, there is nothing but metal-coated bodies, one of which is rising from the ground and moving towards her. She tries to strike out but the magic only sparks at her fingertips.</p><p>"No! I won't go back to the Circle." She scrambles away from them, ignoring the pain in her spine and the rocks that bite into her palms. "I won't let him hurt me again!" This final plea seems to have stopped the approaching templar.</p><p>"Who?" asks a voice, firm and cold.</p><p>Her vision is worsening and Evelyn thinks she may be crying. "Captain Merrick. He said he'll make me tranquil if I tell anyone. Please, I can't go back."</p><p>A different templar is moving this time, their plating darker and smaller but no less severe, and Evelyn extends her left hand, the unstable energy humming angrily from the gash in her palm in warning. When the smaller templar backs away, Evelyn rolls back onto her stomach, a pained grunt escaping her. Her tunic is both wet and sticky, pulling at her skin in the places it is somehow dry. She knows she must be bleeding but only cares about crawling away from this place, away from them before they can drag her back.</p><p>She hears some movement behind her along with creaking hinges and metal pieces clattering to the ground and tries to move more quickly though her muscles will not cooperate. She'd rather bleed out right here in the dirt than spend one more day in the Circle. Any second she expects to feel rough hands yank at her ankle or a heavy boot press down against the wounds at her back.</p><p>What she is not expecting is for a shadow to fall over her and a hand to lightly cup the back of her exposed neck. It is familiar and she stops her struggle to escape.</p><p>"Evelyn? Do you know who I am?"</p><p>This voice too she recognizes, but whereas the last made her sick with fear, this one makes her feel safe. Safe and sad and relieved.</p><p><em>Cullen</em>.</p><p>"Yes," says the voice softly as his thumb slides over her pulse. "Evelyn, you're badly wounded and you're suffering the effects of prolonged exposure to Red Lyrium. I need to bring you to a healer but first, you have to drink this."</p><p>She looks up and he is there, his clothes rumpled from being compressed beneath his now absent armor. Blood stains his shirt and his face is dirty with two stripes of red that sweep over his cheek, but his eyes are bright and pinched with worry.</p><p>"No. No lyrium. Smells like him. I'll vomit."</p><p>"How about a healing potion, then?" asks another voice, this one feminine with a heavy accent.</p><p><em>Cassandra</em>.</p><p>Evelyn nods, and the hand at her neck moves to wrap around her torso to sit her up against him, minding the wounds on her back.</p><p>"Here," says a new, unfamiliar voice. "Give her this one." She takes a few sips, grimacing at the uncharacteristically bitter concoction and she realizes it is a regeneration potion that has been mixed with laudanum.</p><p>The last thing she hears before she falls unconscious is Cullen's voice in her ear.</p><p>"You're never going back to a Circle. I swear it."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She wakes slowly, face down on a cot, and pushes herself up, wincing at the tug of bandages around her torso. The wounds are mostly healed but she feels the depth of her injury and the amount of magic that was needed to knit her back together.</p><p>
  <em>Maker's breath... what happened to me?</em>
</p><p>Pushing her hair from her face, she racks her brain for her last clear memory, frowning when she can only recall the moment they had breached the lower levels and nothing after finding the rift.</p><p>She listens for panic or urgency but there is nothing but the distant crackle of a fire, the murmur of voices, and the occasional ring of metal that sounds more like a spoon clanging on the side of a pot rather than the meeting of swords.</p><p>She reaches for the clean tunic near her bed and winces as she pulls it over her head and stands slowly, closing her eyes to let the dizziness abate. The length of time it takes to do so tells her she's either been unconscious for a long time or lost a lot of blood. She attaches her spirit hilt to her waist but leaves her staff. The thought of the rough-hewn wood laying across her back does not appeal to her in the least at the moment and so she will take her chances that she is safe enough for now.</p><p>After she dresses, she pushes the tent flap open to see it is dusk (<em>at least several hours I've been out then</em>) and starts for the council tent. She nods at the soldiers she passes along the way, noticing that a few are steadfastly avoiding eye contact. The fifth time it happens, she becomes unsettled, her steps faltering.</p><p>
  <em>What can't I remember?</em>
</p><p><em>"</em>They feel shame."</p><p>Evelyn jumps, her hand going to her hilt before she recognizes Cole's flat voice. "For fuck's sake, Cole."</p><p>He blinks and looks at her, his brow pinching. "I frightened you. I am sorry."</p><p>The dizziness returns and she steps into the shadow of a tent and sits. "It's fine, Cole. You just startled me. It happens."</p><p>He doesn't bother to move with her and she catches her breath and waits for her heart to slow. "Why do they feel shame? What happened?"</p><p>Cole frowns and turns his head towards one of the soldiers who ducked away (<em>Tennent, a former Templar</em>) and focuses before he starts to speak in that faraway tone that tells her he is reading the man.</p><p>"What did we do to her? She kills demons and Tevinter apostates. She faced Corypheus and a dragon. And she looked at us like we were the worst of them all..."</p><p>His head swivels, locking on a new target. "Red Templars, what we did to the mages, Lord Lucius... The Order has no honor. Damn the Chantry. Damn the Circles. And damn us too."</p><p>His eyes flick over to another. "She thinks of the things she's seen and what she could have done to stop it. She was a coward."</p><p>He turns to lock in on another ex-templar but Evelyn stands, drawing his attention. "What happened after the rift, Cole?" she asks firmly.</p><p>"You almost died."</p><p>She sighs, her eyes closing with the confirmation but continues, gently. "I figured that, but I'm interested in the details. Why do they suddenly seem to be questioning the Templar Order?"</p><p>"They've had doubts. The Templars who remain with the Inquisition are the kinder ones but still believed. Now they know."</p><p>"Know what?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper (<em>they know, they know they know</em>).</p><p>"Her lips are bloodied from where he hit her but still he presses his mouth to hers. Scream and he'll silence her again, he smirks. Fabric rips and her Circle, already so dark, grows even dimmer."</p><p>She can only stare at him in shock, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, horrified.</p><p>
  <em>They know, they know, they know, they know.</em>
</p><p>Her feet are backing her up slowly at first before she turns, winding her way between the tents, each rapid breath pulling the skin at her back. She leaves the perimeter of the camp, marching into the tree line, stumbling over tree roots in the waning light. She isn't certain of how long she walks, every time she considers stopping she doesn't.</p><p>
  <em>Too close. They'll hear. They'll feel.</em>
</p><p>Until finally she is too lightheaded and she sags against a tree, the bark surprisingly smooth against her forehead. Her face twists up against the roar of emotions within her. Humiliation. Rage. Sadness. Fear. They will look at her with disgust or pity. And she just knows, he was there, the Commander.</p><p>The green grass at her feet starts to smolder, a low burning fire that spreads out from her as she releases some of the constant hold she keeps on her magic, the flame flickering with each hitch of her breath. The tears that fall from her eyes freeze against her cheeks and blue lightning ripples over her skin as her fingers press hard into the bark of the tree. She will give herself this moment to feel before she has to pack it away and reign it in. It is not fair that something that happened for a few minutes so long ago still gets to have this from her, that it still gets to <em>take</em>.</p><p>She stops after a few long moments, knowing any more will draw the attention of demons to her subconscious if it hasn't already. With a shaking breath, she pushes off of the tree and her hand closes into a fist, the fire and electricity snuffing out while her tears melt. Sometimes she feels both far too old and far too young for her twenty-six years and thinks she would give nearly anything for even a fleeting moment of peace to step away from the control, the decisions, the fear.</p><p>But things must be done and she has the anchor.</p><p>She needs to know what became of Samson, and what they found, if anything at the Shrine. And so she will go back (<em>just a minute more</em>) and join her Council (<em>duty will be enough</em>).</p><p>A twig snaps and she looks up. There is Cullen, his foot very deliberately pressed down onto a branch, blond hair illuminated in the increasing starlight. The faint glow of her phylactery is visible under his tunic. He looks wary, but determined.</p><p>They stare at each other while she uses the back of her hands to brush her tears away.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he says with a grimace but doesn't move closer. "We couldn't find you and Cole would only say he made things worse. Are you alright?"</p><p>"Who all knows?"</p><p>His lips thin into a line and one hand clenches at his side. "Cassandra, myself, a Healer, and the other eight Templars who were able to withstand the lyrium long enough to stay at the rift and return." He steps closer. "It was made explicitly clear they were not to speak of it to anyone."</p><p>"And you believe them?"</p><p>"I believe they will follow orders. You didn't say anything overt so they don't know for certain what you meant, but it was enough that inferences were made. Regardless, Cassandra threatened to set the lyrium in their blood aflame if they speak of it."</p><p>She nods and they are quiet for several long moments until she folds her arms tightly across her middle.</p><p>"I..." he starts then clears his throat before trying again, "The Order was supposed to be about protection. We were supposed to protect the world from nefarious magics, but we were also supposed to protect the mages. I am sorry we failed you so miserably and in every way."</p><p>"I don't want to talk about it, " she cuts him off sharply. She's afraid she'll say something so much worse right now if he continues. She is too raw, too exposed, and he confuses her far too much.</p><p>His expression is carefully neutral but he nods once. "I can go get Cassandra if you'd like, though I must warn you, she was the one that sent me."</p><p>Evelyn snorts a humorless laugh and shakes her head. "I do not wish to talk at all."</p><p>She sees him swallow. "I do want to talk to you but..." he sighs, running one hand through his hair and looks back at her. "May I-"</p><p>She is moving then, marching past him and his question dies on his lips. "Where is Samson? Was he there?" she asks, throwing the question over her shoulder as she starts back towards camp. There is a pause before she hears him pull up a step behind.</p><p>"He wasn't there." She can practically hear the snarl in his response. "But we did find the tranquil who designed his armor and we have his equipment. I'm hoping Dagna can use them to find a way to dismantle it. "</p><p>"That could work. And how are the mages?"</p><p>"Nearly all have recovered. There were only a few casualties on our side, thank the Maker."</p><p>She nods and the movement makes the forest floor undulate under her feet sending her staggering sideways in an attempt to regain her balance while spots dance before her eyes.</p><p>A large hand flattens against her stomach and the Commander uses his torso to brace her side, mindful to avoid her injuries.</p><p>"Easy," he mutters, using his free hand to hold her up at her shoulder while she leans heavily on him and he squeezes it in reassurance. She wants to scream that it is not bloody fair, the way he feels like a heated brand through the thin fabric of her tunic but she just remains still while she waits for the world to stop moving. It would be so easy to take these meager moments and see them as more.</p><p>And so, because she has had a particularly fucking awful day, she doesn't push him away even when the ground feels solid once more. The chest beneath her palm where she has braced herself rises and falls in what she thinks is a sigh.</p><p>"Evelyn, I would like to explain why I," he pauses, and the hand at her shoulder lifts to brush the hair at her temple, "why I am the way I am. If you do not want to hear it at this time, I'd understand, but I do owe you an explanation."</p><p>She thinks it may be easier if she does not have to look at him, if she can just let his words fall over her and then wash away to join the rest of the detritus of her disappointments.</p><p>And so, she nods.</p><p>"In Kinloch," he starts, "I was tortured by a desire demon. It would use an adolescent fascination I had with a girl, taking perfectly innocuous memories from my mind and twist the details. At first, it seemed as if these small hopes I kept close were coming true. But then there would always be a turn and then it would just be the demon, touching me, hurting me, and forcing me to do things I did not want to do.</p><p>It did this over and over again, clouding my mind so I could not tell when it pulled me into the fade or when it was actually there. I was very near mad by the time I was freed. It still stalks my dreams and sometimes I wake thinking I'll be back in Kinloch, this all just a new elaborate torture." The hand on her stomach twitches. "It is... difficult... for me to be touched since then and I am only comfortable when I am in control of any physical interactions. It's been nearly ten years and I'm not sure I'll ever be any different." He shifts away from her then and stoops so he can see into her eyes. "So yes, it is all tied up with magic and my life as a templar but it is not because you're a mage. Our, uh,<em> time</em> together has become important to me and I would like to keep seeing you."</p><p>He looks so earnest, she can't help but think they are the same in some ways, a little broken and very alone. No one could fault them for this though she worries she will do something terribly stupid eventually, like decide she loves him.</p><p><em>There are worse mistakes to make than to love</em>, she thinks. Like her magic she will reign it in and keep it close so the extent of it is known to her and her alone.</p><p>She wants this. She wants him and any resolve she built up against this (<em>horrendous, moronic, lovely</em>) idea falters.</p><p>Her fingers flex where they rest over her phylactery against his chest.</p><p>"Me too," she whispers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Evelyn first met Cassandra, the Seeker's glare had been piercing with suspicion and distrust, then later, reluctant acceptance before settling into comfortable familiarity. But the expression she keeps shooting her now is completely new, cycling through variations of indecision and overwhelming curiosity.</p><p>"Everything alright, Cassandra?" she asks when it gets to a point that Evelyn is afraid she'll have a fit of apoplexy. The Seeker glances around, ensuring no one else is in hearing distance before she speaks.</p><p>"Is there something going on with you and Cullen?" she asks, blunt as always, and Evelyn uses the need to reposition her gloves further down her wrists to buy her some time to respond.</p><p>"Why do you ask?"</p><p>"Well, he wouldn't stop looking at you when we arrived at Churneau-"</p><p>"People always look at me. Part of having a glowing hand."</p><p>"And he carried you out the Temple-"</p><p>"How else was he supposed to do it? Drag me by my ankle?"</p><p>"He took off his gloves and touched you, there," she says with emphasis and moves her horse closer to gesture to the back of her neck.</p><p>Evelyn frowns and lightly bats her hand away before reaching for her own reigns again. "So?"</p><p>Cassandra makes an exasperated face and Evelyn is surprised at how lively the normally stoic warrior appears. Her reproach and quiet disapproval had been expected if the connection between herself and Cullen were ever to be discovered and she is unsure of what to do with this wide-eyed woman whisper-shouting with a conspiratorial light in her eyes.</p><p>"I have known that man for some time and the most I've ever seen in the way of affection from him towards anyone is a clap on the shoulder as a 'well-done'."</p><p>"Maybe he missed. The neck is very close to the shoulder."</p><p>She rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath that forms a soft cloud in the freezing air. "A seasoned warrior can land a blade accurately within the space of a finger's width and your explanation is 'He missed'? You knew it was him. Immediately."</p><p>Sighing, Evelyn closes her eyes and doesn't argue the point.</p><p>"It's all so romantic," she sighs.</p><p>Evelyn's eyes fly open and she nearly falls off her horse to see Cassandra staring into the distance, looking as moon-eyed as any fifteen-year-old maid.</p><p>"It's... not, Cassandra, it's not what you think."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"It's not romantic. There are no whispers of undying affection or dreaming of the future. We're just two soldiers providing each other some companionship in wartime." </p><p>The other woman's brow furrows as she makes a face. "I've never once heard of Cullen having dalliances with fellow soldiers. Or dalliances with anyone for that matter."</p><p>"Well, there's a first time for everything."</p><p>The Seeker's face falls, her eyes narrowing in disapproval.</p><p><em>Ah,</em> thinks Evelyn, <em>here it comes.</em><em>.</em></p><p><em>"</em>Who decided this? You or him?"</p><p>She is tempted to throw her hands up and declare it none of the other woman's business but she has a sinking feeling that it would sunder this fragile thread of friendship building between them.</p><p>"Neither. It's just understood."</p><p>One dark eyebrow quirks up in disbelief and she shakes her head. "The characters in Varric's novels have more sense. But you are both adults." She said the word 'adults' as if she were dubious of its veracity. "Do as you wish."</p><p>Cassandra lifts her chin and straightens her back before urging her horse forward and away.</p><p>This time it is Evelyn who makes a face, trying to figure out why her tryst is so vexing to the woman.</p><p>
  <em>It's my heart, after all. I'm the one who will suffer the consequences.</em>
</p><p>A sudden rush of freezing wind has her ducking her face to use one eye to navigate the narrow pass. She thinks of her quarters at Skyhold, its large hearth, and its many warm blankets. The deep of winter in Thedas has arrived, burying more than just the Frostbacks in snow and she is looking forward to actually remaining at Skyhold for once.</p><hr/><p>"Inquisitor?"</p><p>She looks up from her mountain of parchment paper and rubs her eyes before beckoning the soldier forward. "You asked to be informed of Commander Rutherford and his soldiers return. They have just arrived ma'am. The Commander requests to debrief in one hour."</p><p>She dismisses him and thumbs at the edge of the paper while her chin drops in relief. Cullen had stayed behind with some of his soldiers to salvage any clues to Samson's whereabouts with the intent to follow in two days' time, but heavy snows and unexpected skirmishes delayed his return nearly two weeks.</p><p>She tries to refocus her mind on the task at hand but soon gives up and makes her way to the War Room.</p><p>This time, Cullen is the last to arrive. His cheeks are red from the windburn and his jaw set in a frustrated clench, but to Evelyn, he otherwise appears unharmed. The hard look in his eyes softens a fraction when he looks at her before greeting each of them.</p><p>"There was nothing else of value discovered at the Shrine. We made sure the surrounding countryside was free of red templars and caved in the entrance. Hopefully, that will prevent any further person's corruption until it can be dealt with more permanently."</p><p>"And Samson?'</p><p>His hand curled into a fist that pressed down on the war table. "Nothing. We interviewed every merchant and traveler we came across but no one has seen anything. I'll order patrols to resume."</p><p>"And I will set my scouts to it as well."</p><p>He gives a satisfactory nod. "How goes Dagna's progress?"</p><p>"She thinks she can forge a rune to break the armor's power but it will take time and coin." He looks displeased with this answer but offers no other opinions on the matter.</p><p>"Anything else?" asks Evelyn and Josie taps her quill to her parchment.</p><p>"Empress Celene has sent us," she pauses briefly, "a <em>liaison</em>. She has just arrived today."</p><p>"Who?"</p><p>"Her arcane advisor."</p><p>"Morrigan?" questions Evelyn in surprise thinking back to the apostate she'd briefly encountered and Leiliana nods.</p><p>"Morrigan traveled with the Hero of Fereldan during the blight. She is a powerful mage and very clever."</p><p>"Do you trust her?" asks Cullen and Leiliana frowns before answering. "She could be a great asset but she would never be a reliable one. We must never forget that she has motives for all she does and every decision she makes will depend on the good it does her and her alone. I have only ever known of one person to be the exception and due to some news I received this evening, this may work to our benefit." A bright grin stretches across the spymaster's face. "My people have found Solana out West, looking for a cure for the Taint. At first, she was reluctant to abandon her mission but once informed of the nature of Corypheus and his likely connection to the Calling, she will ally with the Inquisition and do what she can."</p><p>There is a clatter as Cullen fumbles the metal marker he had been holding in his hand but it is already righted by the time Evelyn glances over.</p><p>"We also have a prisoner that you will have to decide what to do with," says Josie quickly, drawing back Evelyn's attention. "He is an Avvar named Movran the Under."</p><p>"What did he do?"</p><p>At this Josie seems to be fighting a laugh. "He attacked us. With a goat."</p><hr/><p>After the absurd trial of the Avvar chief, Evelyn makes her way to the undercroft and is surprised to see Cullen there with his shield laid out before himself and Herrit.</p><p>"No problem commander, I'll just-"</p><p>The blacksmith turns to his forge and seeing one of Dagna's latest modifications Herrit throws his hands up. "Like I don't already have a to-do list as long as one of Maryden's feckin' songs. Dagna! <em>DAGNA</em>!"</p><p>Cullen rubs his temple as he watches the blacksmith charge out the room. "I suppose this won't be done tonight then," he comments and raps a knuckle against his shield.</p><p>Evelyn snorts, folding her arms across her chest. "Don't count on it. I half expect to find them slap fighting like children every time I come down here but together they do impeccable work."</p><p>He smiles but it is a strained, flat one and much closer to a grimace. There are tired lines around his eyes and his hair is a bit wilder than usual, a few daring strands lifting from the waves to curl. Something in her chest clenches at the sight.</p><p>"How are you, Cullen?"</p><p>"Angry," he replies simply. "Samson was nearly in our grasp and I let him get away. More templars are going to lose themselves to red lyrium. More people are going to die."</p><p>"It's not your-"</p><p>"Fault?" he asks. "Samson was a brother of the Order and he has betrayed everything we stood for. It is my last duty as a templar and my most important as your Commander that I bring him to justice." The muscle in his jaw flexes. "I will not fail again."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>He inhales deeply and gives one short nod in acknowledgment of her conviction before speaking again.</p><p>"I have some correspondence to complete before the night is out but I would like it very much if you come by my office later."</p><p>Nervous anticipation blooms hot under her skin and flushes her face. "I will try."</p><p>The corner of his mouth lifts for the briefest instant and then, he leaves.</p><hr/><p>She hesitates as her fist hovers over his door, anxiety clawing at her insides. It is late enough that he is certain to have finished whatever work he planned and he<em> asked</em> her to come. But with their new understanding, this feels different, more real in a way their furtive meetings before did not.</p><p>It is the cold that makes her brave in the end.</p><p>"Enter," he says at her knock.</p><p>He is bent over his desk, quill moving furiously in his hand, though it stops when he sees it is her. The room is lit with a few candles and a fire bowl near the desk, their light dancing in a draft from above.</p><p>He says nothing as she closes the door and more fully enters the room. She can't be certain from the way the shadows fall over his expression but he seems to look her over in one long glance from her face down her body and then up again before he rises and steps around his desk. The air around her thickens and she waits for instruction, though she's not sure if she does so because it is what he needs or if because it is what she wants (<em>both, it is both</em>).</p><p>"Take off your coat."</p><p>She shirks off the material and lets it fall to her feet.</p><p>"Come here," he beckons and he moves when she is close to the desk, circling around her. Evelyn lets out a shaky breath when she feels his body heat and his breath stirring the hair she had left down.</p><p>"How fond are you of that tunic?"</p><p>"Not very?" she replies, giving him a confused glance over her shoulder. "It's just a shirt-"</p><p>Her voice cuts off in a startled gasp as there is a tug at the hem of her tunic and a sudden rush of cold air against the skin of her back. The cloth about her shoulders sags as he pushes the scraps forward.</p><p>
  <em>He's cut my bloody shirt off.</em>
</p><p>She feels his finger crook under the edge of her breast band. "And this? Fond of it?"</p><p>Her ribs expand with a breath she exhales through her lips. "No "</p><p>She swears she can feel his smile just before he carefully slides the edge of his blade between the cloth and her skin. In the next moment, it is gone.</p><p>He returns to her, his hands resting on the bare skin where her shoulder meets her neck. In a slow sweeping motion, he skims down her arms to intertwine his fingers with her own. His thumbs brush over the pulse at her wrists, a slow, soothing circle before he guides them both forward, and presses her palms flat against the surface of his desk.</p><p>"Tell me if you want me to stop."</p><p>She is half-naked, bent over his desk, her heart pounding in her ears in excitement and arousal, as she fights the desire to fidget. The room is cold but the fire near his desk keeps her warm and the dancing light hides the slight tremble in her limbs. It is almost a relief when he touches her again, one broad palm following the dip of her waist down to the curve of her ass, then up to curl over her hip. The is a faint vibration as he tugs at the leather lacings on her leggings and they give way, his hand sliding in to cup her intimately.</p><p>She feels lightheaded from her rapid breathing and bites her lip to keep herself from begging him to put his fingers or otherwise, deep inside her and calm this maddening ache.</p><p>And finally, when she is about to break, he presses one long finger into her heat and hisses a sharp intake of breath.</p><p>"Fucks sake, Evelyn," he growls and moves closer to her, his hips now firmly pressed against her ass and adds another digit.</p><p>After that, Evelyn is lost to sensation, her world is narrowed down to him. She is surrounded, his hand at her breast, his presence at her back, and his fingers deep in her cunt and she arches her lower back, pushing against the firmness that she is almost certain is his cock. She is rewarded with a shuddered breath and instinctive thrust of his hips that makes her burn with a wicked pride. He readjusts his wrist to press his thumb against her bundle of nerves in slow circles.</p><p>A piece of parchment crumples under her hand and she holds her breath but cannot help the soft whimper that escapes her. That cord within her is spirialing tight nearly to the point of pain before it snaps loose, an intense wave of pleasure sweeping over her.</p><p>For a moment, all is quiet except for the sound of a deep swallow behind her. His hand is gone from her in the next instant and there is the sound of a jostle of fabric on his person before his breaths become rhythmic and jerky, nearly muffling a quiet slap of sliding skin.</p><p>
  <em>Maker, he's...</em>
</p><p>The thought gives her a rush of joy to have affected him so. It feels more equal. Better.</p><p>She just hears a strangled groan and the commotion stills before he pitches forward, one hand slamming down on the desk's surface next to hers and his head coming to rest between her shoulder blades. It feels strangely intimate, his fingers overlapping hers and his breath ghosting across her back.</p><p>"Thank you," he says softly, and yet it sounds like a fervent benediction, then with a sigh, he heaves himself upward and she thinks she feels his fingers brush her healing scars. By the time she turns around after re-lacing her pants, he is holding out a tunic from his trunk.</p><p>"Here."</p><p>She takes it and slides it over her head, raising a brow when it falls to mid-thigh and gaps open at the neckline to fall down her shoulder. When she looks up, she is surprised to find him watching her, his eyes soft and his mouth quirked in a smile.</p><p>"It's not an exact replacement, but it'll do for now."</p><p>"And who's fault is that?" she teases lightly as she scoops up her coat. </p><p>"Somehow, I am completely unrepentant," he counters, smile widening and he steps closer before leaning forward, his lips nearly at the shell of her ear.  "Wear it when you sleep."</p><p>Despite everything they have done, this makes her blush and she used her nod to hide the reaction. "Right, well, goodnight Cullen."</p><p>There is a hesitation in his demeanor, one hand going to the back of his neck before he drops it.</p><p>"Goodnight, Evelyn."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She is standing in a vast black lake again. The water undulates in a rhythm around her, concentric ripples racing away to the thrum of a slow heartbeat that is not her own. The unnatural chill of the water leaches through her skin to settle in her bones and she shivers.</p><p>It is so different from the Fade she has walked throughout her life (c<em>older, emptier, older</em>) and she knows it is something else that has brought her here.</p><p>A High Demon, by the feel of it.</p><p>
  <em>It must have found me at Dumat.</em>
</p><p>The ripples in the waters still, then reverse, pulling inward to coalesce into an amorphous, black liquid pillar before solidifying into something vaguely human.</p><p>"Who are you?" she demands but the figure says nothing, its formless face somehow radiating disdainful regard.</p><p>"Begone from here. You can offer me nothing I will accept," she snaps at it.</p><p>The cold at her ankles slides up her legs and she glances down to see thick, oily tentacles wind their way up her calves and thighs.</p><p>By the time she looks up again, it is Knight-Captain Merrick's face looking back at her, dead-eyed and flat.</p><p>"There will be no offers, Inquisitor," he replies and the black water twists around her torso and neck before splitting to delve into her mouth and nostrils. Evelyn gags with panic while this thing steals her breath and squeezes her heart.</p><p>"For you have nothing I cannot take."</p><hr/><p>She awakes to a frowning Hawke, arms folded over her chest as she stands over her bed.</p><p>"Demon?"</p><p>Evelyn nods, swinging her legs off the bed to scrub her face with her hands.</p><p>"Well? Which was it? Xebenkeck? Gaxkang?" She makes a face of disgust. "Oh, was it that fucker Caress?"</p><p>Evelyn raises an eyebrow. "On a first-name basis with a lot of demons, are you?"</p><p>Marian just shrugs. "Powerful mage, powerful demons. So who was it? Most can't help but start a soliloquy while trying to possess you."</p><p>"I don't know. It didn't give a name. It didn't make demands or promises, just told me there was nothing it could not take from me."</p><p>The frown on the apostates' face deepens before she sighs and kicks at Evelyn's boot. "Ask Solas about it later. We need to train."</p><p>Retrieving her staff and hilt, she follows the apostate down the stairs and through the hall, nodding her quick greetings to the few they pass at such an early hour.</p><p>The snowfall has let up overnight and the wind is still except for a slight rustle of the highest bows of the trees.</p><p>"Your cousin is on her way here."</p><p>Hawke levels Evelyn with a questioning gaze so she continues. "Solona? Solona Amell? The hero of Ferelden?"</p><p>"Oh, I suppose she is my second cousin or something on my mother's side. Only met her once though when I was barely out of nappies, a few years before her magic manifested." She grinned at Evelyn. "The Amell line is from the Free Marches not far from Ostwick. Perhaps you are our cousin too."</p><p>A short bark of laughter escapes from Evelyn before she replies. "Do not tell Cullen that."</p><p>"He would hate that, wouldn't he? You know, I've heard quite the rumor about you and our esteemed Commander."</p><p>The grin fell from Evelyn's face and she picked up her pace to their sparring field. "I'm sure there are lots of rumors going around. Soldiers look to anything for a distraction from the very real dangers around them."</p><p>There was a small beat of silence in which Evelyn just knew Hawke was smirking behind her. "Liar. So tell me, does that gorgeous beast look as good naked as I'd imagine?"</p><p>Evelyn stumbles. "I... I wouldn't know, actually."</p><p>Now it is Hawke who stops. "Wait. What the Fade are you two doing then?"</p><p>Evelyn can feel her face grow hot with embarrassment but she finds she wants to talk.</p><p>"He mostly just... well, touches me."</p><p>Hawke's brows nearly reach her hairline and she just stares at Evelyn a moment. "Alright. So Curly's a giver. Lovely. But why haven't you two fucked? Or wait, have you and he's one of those that keeps everything but the essentials covered? That does seem like something he'd do, though it is quite a shame if that is the case. The man's built like a-"</p><p>"Marian."</p><p>"Right, sorry," she says and drops her hands from where she was creating a vaguely lewd outline in the air. "So, are you or are you not?"</p><p>"We... I mean technically-"</p><p>"Maker, Evelyn. Have you had sex in the commonly understood way with him?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Huh." The Apostate frowns. "Why not?"</p><p>A look of understanding crosses her face when Evelyn doesn't answer. "Chantry fucked him up that badly, then. Kinloch?"</p><p>"Yes. That's at least part of it."</p><p>"Well. Shit. I don't know what to make of all that, except he must like you if he's working to get you off while not getting fluffed himself. Do you like him or is it just because he's something pretty to look at?"</p><p>Evelyn lets out a gusty sigh and starts walking again. "I don't know. I've never had anything like this before. I want to spend time with him but I don't know how much is real between us or if it is just that we're both lonely and constantly facing our mortality. I know part of it is for comfort from his lyrium withdrawal and I swear the only time my hand doesn't throb in pain is when he's distracting me. It's all mixed up and I don't know where one reason ends and another begins or how much weight is behind each."</p><p>"My last relationship was with an elf that was a former Tevinter slave and hated mages," grins Hawke. "So, I'm probably not the best person to give out advice."</p><p>"That's alright. I think I just needed to tell someone, another mage, who would understand the dicey dynamics."</p><p>"Of course. I'm always happy to discuss the Herald of Andraste's naughty bits smashing against my favorite uptight templar," she laughs and dodges the resulting lightning wisp Evelyn throws her way.</p><hr/><p>"Ugh, you knocked loose my staff blade," grouses Hawke as they climb the long stairs to the welcoming hall to Skyhold hours later. She pauses at the first landing, holding out her arm to stop Evelyn. "Who's that?"</p><p>She follows the apostate's jerk of her chin to the small grouping just outside the great doors. Josephine and Cullen are speaking with a soldier in shining armor and green leathers.</p><p>"Oh, that's Michel de Chevin, an ex-Chevalier we recruited as an agent while at Sahrnia," she answers and continues her steps. "We decided he would be most useful with our Forces to help train the recruits."</p><p>All three of the party turned as they approached, the Chevalier stepping forward and taking Evelyn's hand to kiss the back of it. "Your worship," he greeted. "It is a pleasure to see you again."</p><p>Her eyebrow quirks upward in surprise and she mentally shrugs, marking it up to another Orlesian custom. "Ser Michel, we are thrilled to have your expertise joining our cause. May I introduce Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall?"</p><p>"A Chevalier?" asks Hawke, "You must be quite skilled with a sword, then?"</p><p>De Chevin gives a self-deprecating grin. "I believe some would consider me so."</p><p>Marian's face lights up and she flicks her fingers against the hilt tucked in at Evelyn's side. "Wonderful. Our Inquisitor has taken up a blade of her own. Perhaps you could train her?"</p><p>Evelyn looks at the Apostate, unsettled by the overly cheery expression on her friend's face and downright disturbed by the shit-stirring light in her eyes.</p><p>"Of course. I would be honored. Will tomorrow suffice?"</p><p>"We need to join Dagna in the Undercroft," interjects Cullen and Evelyn leans around Michel to look at him, surprised to see his mouth drawn in a thin line like when he gets one of his headaches.</p><p>"Of course," she says and directs herself back to the Chevalier. "Tomorrow then, if you would excuse us."</p><p>He bows and she moves in line with Cullen as they turn toward the hall. "How are you feeling?"</p><p>The dark look on his face shifts to a slightly confused one. "Fine? Why do you ask?"</p><p>"I thought- nevermind. What does Dagna have for us?"</p><p>His hand unconsciously drifts to the pommel of his sword and Evelyn notes with a little bit of wonder, that it doesn't disturb her in the least. She hasn't flinched at him so near her in his armor in a long time, either.</p><p>"The messenger did not say but I think she's done it. I think she's crafted the rune to unmake Samson's armor."</p><hr/><p>"How heavy is it?" asks De Chevin with a nod to the hilt at her side. They are in the regular training grounds for her first session after agreeing she would use a standard practice sword instead of her spectral one.</p><p>"The blade itself is weightless but the hilt-" she takes it and hefts it up and down in her palm, "is still very light... maybe a pound?"</p><p>He lifts a few of the practice swords, testing the weight in his hands before he lays one across his palms out for her to take. "None of these will be accurate but this is the lightest of the options if you think it will suit."</p><p>Its balance is strange to her and feels unwieldy but she understands her blade of magic is incomparable to anything purely of the physical world. It will have to do.</p><p>He shows her how to more effectively block and parry to fortuitously position herself for the counter. Their practice movements are at first slow and deliberate before increasing in speed and intensity. She grits her teeth and her hands become increasingly numb from the vibrations that rattle down the metal to her arms.</p><p><em>Maker</em>, she hates that sound. She's not too fond of the feeling either. Sweat beads her brow as she shakes out her hand and positions herself for another go. Just when she thinks she has it down, the Chevalier switches his steps up, batting her away if not outright disarming her. But he is an effective teacher, and Evelyn finds him far more patient (and exponentially less painful) than Hawke.</p><p>After a run that ends with her sword arm pinned behind her back and his sword at her throat, De Chevin straightens and steps away after releasing her. "Perhaps that is enough for now?"</p><p>She smiles and nods in agreement, handing the sword back to the man.</p><p>"Thank you, Ser. I have learned much today."</p><p>He salutes her and grins. Out the corner of her eye, Evelyn thinks she sees a flash of gold and red but when she looks, it is gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though she hasn't seen him since they spoke with Dagna, she is somehow certain he will come to her tonight and thus she is unsurprised when hours later, he is closing her door quietly behind him.</p><p>She <em>is</em> surprised, however, by the flat expression on his face and the way his eyes seem to look just beyond her. Standing in the middle of her room, barefoot in her smalls and his oversized tunic, she feels suddenly absurd and exposed.</p><p>Cullen's mouth opens and closes once before he speaks.</p><p>"I know we have not discussed such matters but..." he pauses, one hand passing roughly through his hair. "You are, of course, free to do as you wish with whomever you wish, but I will not share you."</p><p>It takes her a moment to process his statement, her head tilting. "I'm not-"</p><p>"Michel De Chevin is interested," he interrupts.</p><p>Evelyn scoffs. "He's Orlesian. Light flirting is his default."</p><p>Cullen gives her a hard look, his gaze drifting down her bare legs then back up again. "He's interested. As are others. And I wanted to make myself clear. "</p><p>This feels important somehow to Evelyn, one more of the many moments that will shape how they go forward. "Just you?"</p><p>"Just me," he confirms.</p><p>His posture is tense as he waits and she is still a little bewildered by his sudden need to clarify boundaries after her one training session with the Chevalier.</p><p>But also, she is pleased as long as...</p><p>"I don't share either," she replies.</p><p>His eyes flick over her face before he relaxes, pushing off from where he stands against the door.</p><p>"Only you," he promises.</p><p>"Only you," she agrees in return.</p><p>He takes her hand and gently tugs her towards the sofa before sitting down heavily, and with a sigh, closes his eyes.</p><p>He looks worn to her, the circles under his eyes darker than usual and his skin pale from the burdens on him with the extra weight of the lyrium. After a seconds consideration, instead of joining him as he expects, she kneels on the carpet before him and places her hands on either side of his thighs, careful not to make contact. His eyes widen as he takes her in.</p><p>"Tell me what you want me to do," she murmurs.</p><p>He sat up a little straighter, his head shaking. "I- You don't have to do this."</p><p>"I want to. But I won't do anything unless you tell me to."</p><p>The look at each other for a long moment, Cullen's expression a heartbreaking combination of want and uncertainty that fills Evelyn with determination as she lets her body relax and wait.</p><p>Finally, after what feels like an age, he speaks, his voice low and a little hoarse. "Take off the tunic."</p><p>With a nod, she moves her hands to the hem that sits over her thighs and lifts, tossing the garment aside, leaving her clad in just her smalls. The fire in her hearth is warm at her back but her nipples still pebble in the winter air that ghosts through on a draft from her window.</p><p>"Take down your hair."</p><p>The request is simple enough and she pulls the two pins from her haphazard coif, the curls a little wild where they fall just past her shoulders. Her face flushes hot but she meets his gaze steadily as she rests her palms again near his thighs. The apprehension in his face seems to be melting away as he takes her in and Evelyn wishes she could know what she looks like to him in that moment. His eyes are steadily darkening as he seems to wrestle with some decision internally before his hands are moving in a rush, pulling at the laces of his pants while he shifts his posture lower on the cushion.</p><p>It is a little surreal when he pulls his cock out. She's never seen one this close before and it is all at once fascinating, illicit, and a little ridiculous in the way it stands up from him. It is a few shades darker than his own complexion, veined, and thick enough that she wonders how it could comfortably fit into a woman's body. Her lips part slightly in surprise when he glides his fist down it once, the skin sliding to reveal a rounded head. It is altogether primal, the way she can feel her lower body warming and softening in response.</p><p>He wets his lip. "You can touch it."</p><p>She can sense the tremor of faint anxiety in his words so she moves slowly, taking the pad of her index finger to trace along the exposed ridge. Though the movement contains more curiosity than seduction at its core, his chest rises and falls with a shudder.</p><p>Emboldened by his reaction to her light touch, she sweeps her thumb over the tip. It feels softer, more sponge-like that she was anticipating and she watches with rapt attention as it twitches against her hand. She repeats the movement and Cullen hisses, causing her to jerk back. "Does that hurt?"</p><p>His eyes open and the corner of his mouth tilts upward. "Definitely not."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>She looks back at it, uncertain of how to proceed until Cullen sits up.</p><p>"Give me your hand."</p><p>The words are gruff but his touch gentle as he guides her fingers to wrap around him, his hand over hers. The skin is surprisingly soft and together, he moves them up and down his shaft. Glancing up, she finds him watching her and she only hopes that she hasn't broken out into that blotchy blush that makes her look like she's had one too many of Garblog's Reserve. A few more passes and his hand falls away and his head drops against the back of the sofa while she continues. Evelyn finds herself watching the way his adam's apple moves and his hands grip the fabric of the cushion underneath him. Before long, his hips start to flex up against her hand and he looks back at her, his chest heaving and eyes glassy. With a low groan, his body goes rigid and liquid erupts from his member to land across her chest.</p><p>She had known, of course, that would happen. However, like many things she encountered in her life, academic knowledge failed to accurately prepare her for practical experience. Curious, she releases him to drag one finger through the whitish fluid from where it landed between her breasts and Cullen makes a slightly strangled noise.</p><p>"On your back," he growls, quickly tucking himself away. She has barely reclined upon the carpet when he is tugging her knickers down her thighs to toss them somewhere about the room. His attention returns to her, his hands resting on her knees before he slowly pushes them apart while his breathing remains deep and labored as he just looks at her. With her legs spread, she is completely open to him; she can feel the cold air brushing against the wetness of her inner folds and she instinctively clinches her inner walls, seeking warmth. Even from her position she can hear him swallow.</p><p>Eventually, his eyes raise back over her body, tracing the pattern of his spend across her chest before meeting her eyes. Without breaking contact, he shifts down to close his lips over her clit and <em>sucks.</em></p><p><em>Mine</em>, she thinks, her thoughts a mix of pleasure, arousal, and possessiveness. <em>For now at least, you are mine.</em></p><hr/><p>Warden Amell arrives one blustery morning, her expression grim as she relays the news that the Wardens have been swayed to use blood magic to try and kill the Old Gods. With every one of them hearing the calling, the looming death of their Order has driven them to desperation.</p><p>"This has Corypheus written all over it," says Cullen from his end of the War table. "The timing is no coincidence."</p><p>"They will wait until as many of us have amassed as possible. The roads being as they are, we have some time, but not much," replies Solona, the snow on her cloak slowly melting onto the floor. "A month, by my estimation."</p><p>"Our forces against the Grey Wardens?" asks Josie, her brow furrowed in consternation.</p><p>"Our numbers have been small from before even my time and were further decimated by the Blight. I hope to salvage something of what remains. But we are well trained and desperate. It would be best to prepare for a battle."</p><p>Evelyn nods. "Of course. We march in a month's time, then."</p><p>"Thank you, Inquisitor."</p><p>Evelyn smiles at the Warden and nods to dismiss the group. Leiliana's posture relaxes and she reaches out to place a hand on her old friend's shoulder.</p><p>"You must be exhausted, Solona. Let me show you to your room."</p><p>"Just a moment, Leiliana."</p><p>It is not until she is out the room that she notices Warden Amell approaching an uncertain appearing Cullen, but this vanishes behind the heavy oak of the War Room door.</p><hr/><p>Halfway through her sword lesson, Evelyn notices Hawke perch herself up on the fencing, loudly biting into an apple while she watches.</p><p>"Care to learn, Marian? I think I saw a smallsword on Warden Amell when she arrived yesterday."</p><p>"No thanks," she replies between bites. "There is something quite satisfying about knocking someone upside the head with my staff."</p><p>Evelyn snorts a laugh and returns to her exercise, so engrossed, she does not notice at first when Solona joins Hawke on the fence line. The two are murmuring to each other and Evelyn can pick out a slight resemblance between the two. The dark hair and shape of their eyes are startling in their similarity, but as where Hawke is all relaxed swagger, the Warden holds herself straight as if persistently ready. It reminds her of Cullen. </p><p>"Enough!" announces Hawke once she has finished her snack and hops down off the railing. "Time to put that practice to use with your magic. The Warden here will be joining us."</p><p>Evelyn has to admit she is very curious about the woman, not the least of which is how ten years fighting darkspawn has honed her fighting skills. Dismissing the Chevalier, she retrieves her staff and jogs to catch up with the other magi.</p><p>It is Amell who hangs back until they draw even and jerks her head back towards the sparring circle. "It is good to see a mage learning other forms of combat." She taps the small blade on her left hip. "Knowing how to use this has saved my life countless times."</p><p>"Who taught you?"</p><p>"It is not uncommon to cross-train when possible within the Grey Warden ranks, but," she smiles, her eyes going a little distant, "my first teacher was Alistair."</p><p>Evelyn frowns, the name sounding familiar until recognition blooms.</p><p>
  <em>Alistair Theirin, the warden who dealt the killing blow to the Archdemon.</em>
</p><p>"How was he?"</p><p>Solona's brow quirks up. "As a teacher? Fairly shite," she laughs. "At my first lesson, he said 'uh, well, you see, this end is for holding, and this end here is for stabbing'. But he was otherwise wonderful."</p><p>Evelyn doesn't know how to respond to the warden's bittersweet tone and so she remains silent.</p><p>"It is strange," remarks Solona, "to see so many familiar faces after all this time. I truly never expected to see Morrigan again. "</p><p>"Leiliana is wary of her. "</p><p>"As she should be. Morrigan answers to a code of her own that I have only the faintest grip on. I trust her not to harm or kill me but our friendship is complicated and I would not say the trust between us extends to any organizations we align with."</p><p>"Understood."</p><p>They halt as Hawke turns around in the snowy field, her arms wide with that slash of a smile upon her face. "Shall we begin?"</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Hawke fights like fire, brutal and wild, Solona is as dynamic as water: quick-moving, evasive, but more than powerful enough to kill. The air that swirls around them is thick with their magic, a sizzling blanket of energy that must have every Templar for miles at attention. But Evelyn doesn't care. She trusts the ones at Skyhold and she pities anyone that would come across the three of them with harmful intention.</p><p>Despite her mark, despite her almost certain fate, she feels free.</p><p>Her spirit blade clashes against Solona's metal one and though her knees buckle as Hawke's dispel washes over her, she smiles.</p><p>"Much better," says Hawke as they break apart to look up at the sun traversing the sky and Solona wipes the perspiration from her brow.</p><p>"Any place to get a drink around here?" she asks, leaning on the hilt of her sword, and Hawke's face lights up.</p><p>"Ah, now I see the family resemblance. Knew you had some Amell in you somewhere."</p><p>They push their way into the Herald's Rest moments later, their weapons clacking and clanging as they prop them up against the wall that borders their table.</p><p>"I'll grab the first round," says Hawke and jabs a finger in Solona's direction. "What are you having?"</p><p>"Whatever ale is most palatable."</p><p>The finger swings to Evelyn. "A Golden Nug."</p><p>Hawke nods once and pushes her way through the people to Cabot. Alone now, Evelyn can feel Solona's eyes on her before she speaks. "I'm happy to see somewhere outside of the Wardens has mages and soldiers working so well together."</p><p>"It wasn't always that way. At first, we were just a place for refugees from both sides, and clashes were common, but now we've been through enough together, there's a solid trust there."</p><p>"Helps that your leadership is diverse. The right and left hands of the Divine, a circle mage, and a Knight Commander, all from the varying regions of Thedas working together efficiently and effectively. That is no small feat. "</p><p>"Says the woman they credit with ending the last Blight," replies Evelyn, and Solona smirks.</p><p>"Few know exactly how desperate that entire situation was." She rubs her brow with one hand. "After Ostagar, it was just Alistair and myself left of the Wardens. I'd just completed the Joining and he had only been with them for a few months. We had no guidance beyond our duty to slay the Archdemon."</p><p>Solona looks up and meets Evelyn's gaze. "It felt so hopeless. There were so many times... so many bloody times I thought it was the end and we had failed. And Alistair, while lovely and brave, was uncomfortable leading, so it fell to me. We were so young.... I mean, I get the credit but in truth it was all of us, together, just putting one foot in front of the other over and over again until it was done."</p><p>They exchange a look of understanding just as Hawke plops down three brimming tankards and Evelyn recoils, the vapors from the liquor making her eyes water.</p><p>"Hissing Drakes, Marian?! Really? "</p><p>"Pfft. Those drinks you two wanted are little more than piss water," she scoffs and kicks her muddy boots up on the table. "It's the end of the world, ladies. Let's drink."</p>
<hr/><p>The sun has dipped below the horizon and Evelyn's vision has taken on a hazy hue when Hawke suddenly grins and throws her arms wide.</p><p>"Varric!" she yells across the din of the tavern.</p><p>The dwarf looks amused as he sidles up to their table, his gaze passing over Hawke, then Solona, and Evelyn.</p><p>"Well," he says in a stage aside to the Champion, "Curly definitely has a type."</p><p>Hawke huffs a laugh. "Yeah, no shit. What are you up to, Varric?"</p><p>"Looking for some bodies to play a round of Wicked Grace."</p><p>"I'm in. Evelyn? Solona?"</p><p>Both women shake their heads.</p><p>"I don't play drunk," says the Warden. "I lose far too much money."</p><p>"And I don't know how to play."</p><p>"We'll teach you," says Varric to Evelyn but she just shakes her head.</p><p>"I'll take Solona's word for it that playing drunk is not a wise course."</p><p>"Suit yourself," shrugs Hawke before using Varric's shoulder for balance to stand.</p><p>"Smart move, Inquisitor," says Varric, watching his friend bounce off the other patrons and a few table ledges as she makes for the door. "She's gonna lose her ass tonight."</p><p>He bids goodnight to the two women while Solona drains her tankard.</p><p>"I should call it a night. The Taint makes hangovers hell," she says, setting down her drink and pushing up from the table. "You good?"</p><p>Evelyn stretches her arms, enjoying the warmth that is drowning out some of the burning pain in her left hand. "Yep, just going to finish my drink."</p><p>Solona gives her a slightly wobbly salute and then it is just Evelyn in her dark alcove. Most of the Tavern has emptied at this point with a few of the Iron Bull's compatriots passed out on the tables. With a sigh, she lifts her tankard to drain the rest of the contents and dreads the long walk back to her cold bed.</p><p>She stumbles once outside while her eyes adjust to the black of night, the usually steady ground suddenly twisting and uneven. Her hand shoots out to catch... something, anything, really to steady herself.</p><p>Instead, there is the unmistakable feeling of hands at her waist and the body heat of another.</p><p>"I've got you."</p><p>His voice is as warm as his grip and she can't help the smile that stretches her features upon seeing him.</p><p>"Cullen."</p><p>She presses the bridge of her nose against his neck and curls her fingers around the lapels of his cloak. It is relief she didn't know she was seeking, and she breathes him in (<em>she thinks about this later, the two of them in full view of all who are passing by, but more importantly, that he doesn't move away.</em>)</p><p>
  <em>Sandalwood. Smoke. And not a fucking hint of lyrium.</em>
</p><p>"Come on," he whispers into her ear, his arm looping over her as he turns them toward the castle.</p><p>They walk the entire way back to her rooms like this, his arm over her shoulder and hers about his waist, the silence of the late hour only punctuated by his gentle instruction (<em>with her eyes closed, and her cheek pressed to his chest,</em> <em>she appreciates his occasional 'here's a step' or tug closer when they round </em><em>a corner</em>).</p><p>His grip goes slack when he pushes open her door, his palm gently urging her forward. The drink in her veins makes her bold and she turns to face him, her hand tugging at his cloak to pull him closer. Colors swirl in her peripheral vision as she watches him, her gaze focused on his lips while her own tingle in phantom demand. She wants to taste him, drink him in, feel him in her blood, and her bones.</p><p>Her focus is broken when he speaks.</p><p>"Your encouragement… is usually…" he pulls his lower lip between his teeth before continuing haltingly, "...isolated… in its occurrences."</p><p>The words bring her up short and she leans back a little to get a clearer look at his face, confused. "Isolated?"</p><p>"I go to you," he clarifies, his gaze suddenly unwavering. "And only when you are alone. And I initiate. But other than that… you…" His Adam's apple bobs and he looks curious, she decides. "I don't want to overstep. I don't wish to make you regret… anything, for whatever reason."</p><p>"I don't," she replies, her eyes now on the thin scar of his upper lip, the only flaw in the perfect symmetry of his face. "I haven't."</p><p>A muscle in his jaw clenches in her peripheral vision when she presses her chest to his and whispers her words against his lips. "I won't."</p><p>There is a sharp inhalation and his hands gently push her back. "That's… not a good idea, Evelyn. You've been drinking."</p><p>"That was me encouraging, or giving encouragement, or whatever," she replies, tone far more petulant than she wishes it to be.</p><p>His fingers squeeze where they hold her against her hips. "You're very drunk, Evelyn," he says gently. "You can't reliably tell me no or to stop. And you might feel differently about this decision in the light of day."</p><p><em>I just want you to kiss me</em>, she thinks but all she manages is a jerky nod before turning away and stumbles towards her bed. She busies herself with removing her armor, ignoring the man still watching from across the room. But her uncoordinated fingers keep sliding off the complicated latches on her greeves and she huffs, the flyaway curls from her bun fluttering around her face. Soon, much larger hands are batting away her own, and there is a flurry of metallic clicks as the metal gives way.</p><p>It reminds her of months ago in Haven when he had freed her hair from her gauntlet.</p><p>
  <em>I still don't know what to make of you.</em>
</p><p>The hands at her calves still and he glances up. "You don't?"</p><p>She blinks a few times before it occurs to her that she had spoken out loud.</p><p>"How did you end up in the chantry?"</p><p>The faint hurt in his expression is replaced by surprise. "Well... I grew up in Honnleath. My family, we were farmers."</p><p>It is Evelyn's turn to be surprised, as she tries to imagine Cullen's regal bearing steering a plow behind a mule and finds it near impossible. He regains her attention with a slight tug as he starts to undo the clasps at her forearm.</p><p>"But I wanted to do something... more, <em>be</em> something more. To do good and help." His last words are clipped, their bitterness evident. "I thought the Templar Order was the best way to do that. We had no money but my sister had found me a battered practice sword somewhere and the Templars at the local chantry humored me by teaching me the basics." His fingers drag along her palms as he pulls off one gauntlet before turning his attention to the other. "When I was thirteen, a visiting Knight-Commander saw me practicing and thought I held promise and offered to sponsor me. My parents agreed and I left."</p><p>"You have siblings?"</p><p>His eyes flick up to her and he smiles. "Yes. Three. Mia is the oldest, then myself, Branson, and Rosalie. They're in the South Reach now. " His smile fades as he removes her other gauntlet. "Did you have siblings?"</p><p>Evelyn heaves a sigh and reaches up, tugging at the tie that binds her hair, frowning when she can't find the loose end. "I don't know."</p><p>"You were the first born?" he asks, taking over her task</p><p>"Don't remember. Was taken by the Chantry when I was four."</p><p>He pauses as her hair comes undone. "Four? Truly?"</p><p>Evelyn hums a confirmation, her eyes closing as his fingers slowly press into her scalp. "That's uncommonly young," he remarks but she barely hears, her body feeling heavy and she just wants to burrow herself into the furs on her bed but his fingers are still buried in her curls.</p><p>She forces her eyes open to see him watching her, gaze intense and contemplative as they flick over her face. She can't muster the energy to suss out the meaning behind it, and instead reaches up, covering his hands with her own to extricate them from her hair. Later she will remember and wonder what demon possessed her to do so, but she turns her face towards his right hand, his sword hand, to press a kiss against his wrist.</p><p>And drops them to slide face down onto her bed without seeing his reaction.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Upon their arrival to Adamant, much becomes clear.</p><p>Magister Erimond is in league with Corypheus and caused the premature Calling that drove the Wardens to become so desperate. After the blood sacrifice, Evelyn knows there is no hope of reasoning with them and they must be stopped.</p><p>Fighting the Wardens is harder than the Red Templars in a way. They still look like men and she doesn't have a lifetime of strife against their order. And what's worse, she understands the decisions that lead them to this point. </p><p>Solona, on the other hand, is enraged. She calls down lightning, not from her staff but the sky itself and the large swirling clouds that hover over the fortress. Several wardens drop their weapons upon sight of her, a few from relief but most from fear. </p><p>She allows those to live. </p><p>Hawke is a whirlwind of chaos and seemingly has a sixth sense for anything combustible in the area. </p><p>They cut a swath through the Wardens and their demons as the spearpoint of the Inquisition Forces.</p><p>It is Hawke, Solona, Cassandra, Sera, and Solas with her when the dragon arrives, smashing the bridge from under their feet.</p><p>It is a fall she knows they cannot survive and so Evelyn stops resisting the pull of the anchor and pours all of her magic into the thing. It both obeys and does as it wishes, ripping open a rift that swallows them whole.</p><p>They are the first of flesh and bone to walk through the Fade since the Magisters that attacked the Golden City and she wonders what price they will have to pay for such a transgression.</p><p>It spats them out later, with an answer, one member less, and yet so much heavier.</p><p>The Inquisition and captured Wardens are stunned to see them, their gasps and shrieks soon followed by familiar faces pushing through the crowd. Leiliana is first, the usually enigmatic woman's jaw-dropping at the sight of them. Josie is right behind her, her hand going to cover her mouth.</p><p>Cullen is next through the bodies, and his chest heaves in and out a huge breath when he finds her.</p><p>It is almost as if she could read their very thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>How?</em>
</p><p>Evelyn knows they look like they've been to Hell and back (<em>they have, Maker, they have</em>), their bodies covered in blood and ichor. Sera has collapsed into a sobbing, shaking, cursing pile. Cassandra is leaning heavily on Solas and favoring her now-injured leg. Solona is glaring at the Wardens, her bloodied knuckles blanched white where she grips her staff.</p><p>It takes her a moment to realize someone else has approached and she breaks her gaze from Cullen to the dwarf now before her.</p><p>"Where's Hawke?" demands Varric, one hand fisting the edge of her cloak. "Evelyn, where is she?!"</p><p>Evelyn tries to respond, but her voice only creaks at the sight of his desperation and fear.</p><p>She clears her throat and tries again. "She stayed behind so we could escape... If this is the start of a Blight, we need the Wardens and we need Amell. I had no choice, I'm sorry, so sorry...Varric-"</p><p>She reaches out, intending to put her hand on his shoulder, but the dwarf has already stepped away from her, his lip curled in disgust before he turns to disappear back into the crowd.</p><hr/><p>Her fingers card through her hair, nails digging into her scalp in an attempt to distract herself from the despair she feels. Hawke is gone and the weight of it sits on her shoulders and compresses her chest, threatening to suffocate her.</p><p>The champion of Kirkwall, a hero of mages, and above all, her friend... And she left her alone in the Fade to face a monster. She left her to die.</p><p>"Stop it, stop it, stop it," she chants as she curls over her knees and tugs harder on her hair. Anything to draw her focus.</p><p>Her magic is bleeding from her, wild and lashing. A warning to mortals. A beacon to demons.</p><p>The glow of the mark dances over the walls of her tent.</p><p><em>You are not Andraste's Chosen,</em> something whispers.</p><p>"No."</p><p>
  <em>Imposter.</em>
</p><p>"I didn't know!"</p><p>
  <em>Betrayer.</em>
</p><p>"Stop. Please stop."</p><p>Her breath stutters as the next inhalation is ice cold and stale, the hairs on her neck rising as she feels the veil thinning around her.</p><p>Evelyn wraps her arms tightly about her waist, trying to empty her mind and calm her emotions. But all she can see is Hawke's daring smile and the sad determination behind the woman's eyes as she said goodbye and launched herself at the Nightmare in the Fade.</p><p>
  <em>You sent her to die to save yourself.</em>
</p><p>"That's not-"</p><p>
  <em>Varric will never forgive you.</em>
</p><p>"No. No, please..."</p><p>She can feel herself slipping, oily tentacles from the Fade wrapping around her soul in preparation to crack it open and let in the Demon that wore Merrick's skin.</p><p>
  <em>And Cullen. Hawke was his friend too.</em>
</p><p>Her mind floods with a vision of Cullen his face furious as he bears down on her with his sword.</p><p>
  <em>They'll all turn on you. You will be alone. You will die alone.</em>
</p><p>"Please."</p><p>
  <em>And you will have deserved it all.</em>
</p><p>"Evelyn?"</p><p>She lifts her head to find Cullen kneeling before her, his expression urgent with hands gripping her tightly around her upper arms.</p><p>She lets out a relieved sob and wraps her own hands around his forearms. Taking a steadying breath she levels her gaze to his.</p><p>"Cullen, I need you to silence me."</p><p>His face contorts and he shakes his head. "No. Fight it, Evelyn. You can do this."</p><p>"I can't. It's too close and too strong. And what I'm feeling... it's too much. You must."</p><p>"Please don't make me do this," he begs quietly. "Not to you."</p><p>She can feel the demon burrowing into her and she <em>needs</em> him to cut her off from the Fade. She would rather die than be possessed by that foul entity. Digging her nails into his forearms, she leans forward, her teeth clenched.</p><p>"Either silence me or ready your sword, Commander."</p><p>He squeezes his eyes tight before he passes one hand over her.</p><p>"<em>Silence.</em>"</p><p>It hits her with the subtly of an axe, severing her connection to the Fade and she collapses like a marionette with cut strings, gasping into the furs that overlie the sand in her tent.</p><p>For a moment, she feels nothing and automatically reaches for her magic, a wave of nausea making sweat bead over her skin when there is no response. She guesses it would be much like if a normal person lost the sense of touch all over their body. One can function but it would be disconcerting and unnatural.</p><p>Cullen is brushing back her hair. "Evelyn? Are you alright?"</p><p>She manages a weak nod against his palm as he sits her up. "The danger is over. Thank you."</p><p>"How are you feeling?"</p><p><em>Grief stricken, sick, exhausted,</em> she thinks but has something more important to discuss with him. "I'm not Andraste's Chosen."</p><p>His mouth opens then closes and his head tilts as if he did not quite hear her.</p><p>"It is all a lie," she continues, "At the temple of Sacred Ashes it was the Divine behind me that was seen. Not Andraste." She lifts her hand and stares at the dulled light of the anchor while fresh tears fall. "It's all been a fucking lie."</p><p>Cullen's calloused hands cover her own, hiding the anchor from her sight.</p><p>"The Maker is rarely as overt in His actions as the Chantry would have us believe," he says quietly and swallows, "I have seen a great many terrible things in my life. The demons at Kinoch, the darkspawn in the Blight, and the slaughter at Kirkwall. But in each, there was a beacon of light that held the darkness at bay long enough for good to prevail. My brothers kept me from despair until their last breaths. Solona fought through a sea of Darkspawn to stand before the Archdemon. Hawke was the center of a rallying cry that lead to a revolution. And you emerged from the rubble of a cataclysmic event, impossibly, unbelievably alive."</p><p>It is his turn to lean towards her and all she can see is gold, in his hair, in his eyes. "I don't know if you are chosen, Evelyn, but we follow you because you are our light in the darkness."</p><p>His thumbs are rubbing back and forth over the skin of her hand and she remembers dying in the Frostbacks, that hand limp and frozen when she too saw a light. Small, pale, and blue, it cut through the blackest night she had ever known.</p><p>"And you are mine," she whispers.</p><p>She is tempted to panic, to take back her confession, but she is too exhausted to muster the effort. Instead, she just watches as several emotions flicker across his face. The first is the stillness of surprise followed by something uncomfortably close to the pained expression he made just prior to silencing her, but then it relaxes, replaced by what she could only describe as longing. He, already so close, leans in.</p><p>It takes her a moment to process what is happening. It is soft and almost unbearably sweet the way his lips meet hers.  Like she is not alone in the confusing tumult of feelings about their arrangement. Like he understands. Like he agrees. </p><p>He pulls away far too soon for her liking and stands, taking her hands to pull her up. The opening to her tent flutters open to reveal Dorian and Cassandra.</p><p>"Everything alright?" asks the Seeker, her eyes flicking back and forth between Evelyn's tear-stained face and the Commander. "We felt a surge of magic-"</p><p>"Followed by a silence," completed Dorian.</p><p>The Tevinter mage is sharp and Evelyn can already see him putting the pieces together.</p><p>"I'm fine," she reassures them.</p><p>Cullen turns back to her. "I'll go and explain. You rest."</p><p>She mouths a simple <em>Thank you</em> before crawling onto a thin mattress, looking forward to a for once dreamless sleep.</p>
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